In late September 2003, DMX headlined the KISS-FM End of Summer Jam at Star Lake outside Pittsburgh, where he hit the stage like a hungry pit bull in a butcher shop.
The MC deemed “the king of hard-core rap” and "the hip-hop Johnny Cash" was so intense, so focused or so something, he didn’t even bother to take note of where he was.
With five minutes left in his all-killer-no-filler 45-minute set, the chiseled rapper, who had stripped off his shirt on a chilly night, stopped and said, “What?! We outside?!" Then he laughed. "This whole time I didn't know.”
That’s how the Ruff Ryder rolled.
DMX, born Earl Simmons on Dec. 18, 1970, and raised in the Yonkers district of New York, died Friday at White Plains Hospital in New York after suffering a heart attack, putting an end to a wild, tumultuous life and career.
“Earl was a warrior who fought till the very end,” his family said in a statement. “He loved his family with all of his heart and we cherish the times we spent with him. Earl’s music inspired countless fans across the world and his iconic legacy will live on forever. We appreciate all of the love and support during this incredibly difficult time.”
For some insight into what made Simmons DMX, in his autobiography, "E.A.R.L.," he detailed the brutality he experienced from his mother and her boyfriends, driving him to group homes, juvenile centers and thug life.
"I was used to sleeping on hard surfaces, used to eating rotten food," he wrote. By the time he hit puberty he was snatching purses and stealing cars. He did his first stint in a juvenile center in 1986 for stealing a dog from a junkyard and two years later he was back in for carjacking.
Turning from robbing to rapping, he took his name from the DMX digital sound machine and threw himself with fury into freestyle battles. His debut single, "Born Loser," was issued on Ruffhouse in 1993, followed a year later by "Make a Move," which coincided with a conviction for drug possession.
He reentered the hip-hop world on DJ Clue's underground mixtapes and then on cameos with LL Cool J, Mase, The Lox and Ice Cube that led to the big break: a deal with Ruff Ryders/Def Jam, where he released "Get at Me Dog," introducing a broader public to a dark, aggressive rap style from a dude who sounded like he gargled with razor blades.
Producers Swizz Beatz and Dame Grease applied his driving synth beats to "It's Dark And Hell Is Hot," a record that combined the streets with spiritual music and had kids from the hood to the suburbs barking along — 4 million of them to be exact.
“He was different because of how vulnerable and authentic he was in his music,” says Pittsburgh rapper and 1Hood Media founder Jasiri X. “He was hot at a time in hip-hop where it was so much about image, money, and popping champagne. He came along with a rawness that was powerful because of his realness. His faith in the face of his demons inspired millions.”
DMX continued to explore his own struggle with good and evil on "Flesh Of My Flesh, Blood Of My Blood," which found him covered not with jewels and fur like his fellow rappers, but with blood. The album, which featured everyone from Jay-Z to Mary J. Blige and Marilyn Manson, debuted at No. 1 in January 1999 and stayed there for three weeks.
A year later he turned up on the "...And Then There Was X" tour, facing a crowd as rabid as himself with hits like "Party Up (Up in Here)" and "What's My Name"
“The screams of young women as DMX ascended to the stage in a cage were reminiscent of 1950s Elvis," said the PG review. "DMX, however, is not a love-me-tender kind of guy, especially when he's asking the musical question, 'What These B-s Want?' He's a roughneck, a self-proclaimed dog, whose audience is more than happy to growl and whoof along with him."
DMX helped fill the vacuum left by the deaths of Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G and that extended to Hollywood, where appeared in such action films as 1998’s “Belly,” 2000’s “Romeo Must Die” and 2001’s “Exit Wounds.”
The DMX sound evolved in 2001 with "The Great Depression," which included “I Miss You," a song in which he grieved the loss of his grandmother and "A Minute for Your Son," where he turned to the Lord and said, "I don't wanna run the streets like I used to."
After murmurs that he was going soft, with “Grand Champ," his bite was back on songs like “Dogs Out,” "Where the Hood At" and “Rob All Night.”
Each of those five albums landed at No. 1 on the Billboard 200.
All along, his brushes with the law were legendary, including a 1998 rape charge (which was dismissed), animal cruelty charges for the treatment of his pit bulls, weapons charges, speeding and reckless driving multiple times. In 2013 alone, he was arrested four different times. His latest arrest was in 2017 for tax fraud, compounded by a drug violation, which put him in prison from March 2018 to January 2019.
According to the LA Times, “Simmons is said to have been in and out of prison some 30 times, is the father to more than a dozen children, and had recently been plagued by bankruptcy woes.”
Of his extensive rap sheet, he once told the paper, “It didn’t really bother me because I’ve always been one to not really give an [expletive] about what people think or say about me... If anything, they helped me sell a few more records. It didn’t hurt me. As long as I know who I am, all that other stuff is irrelevant.”
Following his 2019 release, he jumped right back into touring, turning up for his final Pittsburgh appearance at the Foxtail on the South Side — an underplay — in May 2019. That same year, he appeared at one of Kanye West’s “Sunday Service” events and he re-signed with Def Jam to make his first proper album since 2012’s “Undisputed” and his first for the label since 2003.
At some point, some of that will see the light of day.
“He was a rare artist with an infectious spirit that could touch even the most casual fan of rap music,” says Jordan Montgomery, Pittsburgh rapper and founder of Driving While Black Records. “His music got many people through tough times. He went through a lot throughout his life but he used that pain to make art that transcended genres and generations. He will never be forgotten.”
