Reggie Warlock

Perhaps the most interesting thing about Tyler is that he doesn't know who you are. He's never met you. This is interesting because Warlock has never stepped into a room where at least a handful of "Yeah-I-Know-What's-Up"-ers hasn't bitten his style. No matter who you are, something you say, do, wear or like has been influenced by RW. Whereas his origin is an unprecedented mystery (and to the knowledge of public record, he doesn't exist), his infectious affluence of True School principle has radiated the landscape of well-informed personage to the point where Love and Despisement are of equal compliment. Whether he likes it or not, the impact he's accrued from writing graffiti since he was 9, as well as his oratorical nature and joyful dissonance have invaded the popular imagination in such a way that suckers don't even recognize the nutrition. As such, it is only fitting that his most detectable residue is a byproduct of his sprawling form. Referred to by art junkies as "Street (or Love) Monsters" his rudimentary mirrors of reality have begun to breed and engender themselves beyond his original intent. However rooted in the elements, these little bastards of relentless heritage expand further than the Hip-Hop reflected in Warlock's slang, walk and stance. They are as welcome with the Fat-Cats as they are with the Flat-Broke. In a recent interview, one was quoted as saying, "Nah, man. I don't discriminate. Ayyo, you got trees?". ( This was interpreted by an Argentinian linguist after 14 hours of deep concentration as their language is akin to a boiling lobster who knows nothing but profanity.) Their subtly dynamic commentary is their indispensable quality. Their puzzling ability to spread like some seriously fresh rabies is their own and is still under scientific review