It's hard, if not downright impossible, to convey the influence McLaren and the projects he associated himself had on me growing up. He managed groundbreaking groups like the Sex Pistols and Bow Wow Wow, but then released an album of his own titled Duck Rock, which was an explosion of early 80s hip-hop, urban radio culture, numerous styles of "world" music (Merengue, Afro-Pop, Caribbean, South African Soweto) that pre-dated Paul Simon and David Byrne's forays by nearly a decade, and was also one of the first commercial records to introduce hip-hop to an entirely new audience (especially in the UK). Granted, much of what exists on Duck Rock was acquired, mashed together, and repackaged by McLaren in a manner some could find questionable (it's essentially other people's work with his own name and overdubbed 'vocals' in parts), but without McLaren's name or pedigree chances are the musical forms on it never would have permeated down to an entirely new audience of listeners, including me.

I still remember seeing the LP for Duck Rock in my brother's bedroom when I was about twelve or so, staring at the horns and graffiti affixed to a boom-box on top of a Keith Haring illustration (see above), and wondering what in the world it was all about. It was simultaneously odd, exotic, different, and exciting. I'd borrow it, play it, play it again, and then play it some more. It wasn't just an infectious, fun, and entertaining record, it was like something from a completely different universe had fallen through the sky onto the cheap record player in my small bedroom on a quiet suburban cul-de-sac.

Years later I would be lucky enough to pitch an idea for a public radio program of my own, and wanted nothing more than to air cross-genre music that defied categorization and reinterpreted the definition of what's typically refered to as "world" music. Albums like Duck Rock were the model — mashups of varying sounds and styles, all layered together, in an effort to both entertain and inform listeners of the cross-pollinating influences of contemporary musical forms throughout the world. I hosted that show ("The Kitchen Sink") for about three years, and while much of the playlist centered around new releases, every now and then I'd sneak in "Double Dutch", "Jive My Baby" or other Duck Rock tracks as a personal homage to McLaren and the artists included on it.

For me, McLaren's influence, though indirect, can't be overstated enough -- especially considering that Duck Rock was released nearly thirty years ago in the pre-internet days of media (when nearly all musical exposure was controlled by un-imaginative radio programmers and three channels on the television). It took the namesake of a goofy, shrewd business manager of a punk rock group (which we were all quite familiar with) to slip a Trojan horse of new sounds past the blockade.