Bobby Ramirez and Robert Gutierrez didn’t set out to be trailblazers in the hip-hop arena. They were just teenagers with egos.
Ramirez spent afternoons at the dinner table writing lyrics and reciting them out loud. Gutierrez spent his middle school and high school days in Santa Ana and Riverside, battling peers with his rhymes at school dances. “We were just what we called brag rappers, just ego,” said Gutierrez, known as ODM, or One Dope Mexican.
They didn’t know each other, but in 1990 a promoter immersed in the local music scene put the two together, and from that came Lighter Shade of Brown, a group now hailed as a pioneering Chicano hip-hop group.
With a debut album titled “Brown and Proud” and the hit “On a Sunday Afternoon,” the group became a source of pride for Latino youth in Southern California and across the U.S. during the ’90s.
With the recent death of Ramirez, who died in July, scores of fans are remembering the group as advancing Latinos in musical history, as a soundtrack to their youth spent at family barbecues and backyard parties in the San Gabriel Valley, and as a form of empowerment for Latinos who did not have much music reflecting their identity.
“It was embraced with acceptance right away because I think at that time, I don’t want to say the Latino community, Chicanos, didn’t have anyone to look up to, but it just made hip-hop that much cooler for Chicanos because we got one of ours doing it,” said Gutierrez, 42, now an on-air radio DJ at 99.1. KGGI FM.
Looking back, sharing the stage with hip-hop artists such Salt-N-Pepa and Chubb Rock was fun, Gutierrez recalled, but the road to success wasn’t always easy.
LATIN ACTIVE
Gutierrez was only 16 when the group formed. Ramirez, who went by DTTX, or Don’t Try To Xerox, was about 20. The Riverside duo had no training in storytelling until their manager, Clif Richey, introduced them to themes to abide by.
At the time, Will Smith’s “Summertime” was a hit, and Richey wanted them to write a song with that vibe, but about what their friends and family did at the park. Out of that emerged “On a Sunday Afternoon,” with a video at Legg Lake Park in South El Monte’s Whittier Narrows Recreation Area, showing Ramirez and Gutierrez rapping about “jamming the oldie tunes,” “kids playing on the merry-go-round,” and cruising around in the parking lot.
Following their manager’s advice, they created other songs that touched on barrio life – growing up with a single parent, about mom supporting the family, and even about a young woman suffering from AIDS. They sang about revolutionary heroes such as “Pancho Villa” and “Viva Zapata.”
They had hits such as “Homies,” “Hey DJ,” and “Latin Active” that featured a Latina rapper known as “Teardrop” and vocalist named Shiro who collaborated with them to make “On a Sunday Afternoon.”
Fans were hooked.
“When I listen to a Lighter Shade of Brown, I think of the memories that are tied to them,” said Ana Anguiano of Sherman Oaks. “From cruising down Laurel Canyon Boulevard in San Fernando, California, on Sunday afternoons, to simply hanging out with family barbecuing, their music gives good vibes.”
To Anguiano, the group played a significant role in representing Latino heritage.
Gutierrez and Ramirez, though, didn’t fully grasp the cultural relevance of the group early on.
It wasn’t until the group started impacting social movements during that era, such as organizations pushing for Chicano Studies courses at UCLA, that they started to become more aware. They found themselves getting invited to perform on college campuses for organizations like MeChA, and getting involved in rallies that they didn’t fully comprehend.
“I was like why are we doing this?… Why are we here? I was 17,” Gutierrez recalled.
“But, it was cool because it was great to get educated … and that’s how we learned as artists as well. Then I started thinking maybe I could write about this in our next album,” he said.
A COMEBACK
With a recent wave of ’90s nostalgia, Gutierrez and Ramirez found themselves performing more often. There were doing two to three shows a month and recently played in San Diego and Fresno. Their next show was scheduled for August 6. A reality show about the group is also in the works.
The group parted ways when Gutierrez got involved with radio, but Ramirez wanted to keep making music. “He just had that dire passion. I mean, we all did, but that was his thing,” Gutierrez said. “‘That’s what I was meant to do, I can’t do anything else,’ he would say.”
Ramirez believed in what he was doing, his mother, Barbara Ramirez, said.
Ramirez eventually moved out of California. His father died in 2000, and Gutierrez said he went through tough times and battled alcoholism. “He had his off days, (but) when he had his on days, it was easier,” Gutierrez said.“They used to call him the Mexican Eazy-E. He was one-of-a-kind for sure.”
Ramirez was 46 when he suffered heatstroke that led to cardiac arrest July 7. He was found unconscious on a Las Vegas street and pronounced dead at Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center in Las Vegas, his family said.
A number of fans have taken to social media to remember Ramirez, who is survived by a 24-year-old daughter, Destiny, a 20-year-old son, Anthony, and his mother Barbara Ramirez.
25 YEARS LATER
Gutierrez said he’s proud of what they’ve accomplished, but he doesn’t think they get the recognition they deserve.
“In our mindset we were A-listers, but I don’t think people saw us like that,” Gutierrez said. “When everybody would talk about Latinos in hip-hop, it would be Cypress Hill or Big Pun … but they’re forgetting who was before them.”
He credits hip-hop artist Kid Frost, who came out with the hit, “La Raza,” and Mellow Man Ace, a Cuban-American rapper, for spawning the genre of Latino hip-hop.
While Cypress Hill’s Public Enemy-inspired sound resonated with mainstream rap and rock audiences, Gutierrez and Ramirez rapped over samples familiar to West Coast Chicanos who grew up listening to “Lowrider oldies.”
But those sounds attracted loyal fans.
“Their music was important because it signified and identified a new genre – Chicano rap,” said Pete Marrero, who remembers listening to the group during his overseas military years as an 18-year-old. “It made me look forward to coming home … having a cookout with the family or just hanging out with my friends.”
“They didn’t have to cuss to express the ways of their upbringing in their music … they expressed themselves in a respectful way which made you appreciate their music more,” Marrero added.
And for that, Gutierrez is grateful.
“It was a great era for us, for musicians as a whole,” Gutierrez said. “Breaking down doors as the public had put us out there … It helped us to become popular quicker, and that was because of our people supporting our music.”
“I am fine by that. Twenty-five years later here we are.”
