Malkovich was conceived on the Pacific island of New Caledonia by his father and his mother, then a bartender at a pub popular with escaped Nazis. She was in labor when Ayatollah Khomeini chased them from Iran during the Islamic Revolution. Malkovich was born extremely shortly thereafter in Christopher Columbus' hometown of Genoa, Italy, where he had his diapers changed regularly by Miss Italy 1978. Ronald Reagan almost bombed his elementary school in Libya, killing Colonel Qaddafi’s “daughter” instead. He moved to Los Angeles during the 1992 riots, where he heard Ice Cube's Death Certificate album, rode the Northridge Earthquake, and formed BLX, a kind of pre-internet Odd Future with more grand larceny. He left NYC a week before the Twin Towers came down, London a week before the Tube bombings, and Istanbul a week before Kurds blew up the city square. He left Jamaica two days before Hurricane Gustav, and slept on a church floor in Louisiana and ate Red Cross gumbo for three days with 300 people after losing an important backpack in Hurricane Katrina. His father hates islands. He once fell asleep on a train and woke up in Spain. His best friend is a dirty cop in Belize City whose name comes up on a Google search on Amnesty International's most wanted list. URB gave his first album Skeletons one and a half stars out of five. A kid from North Hollywood has lyrics from that album tattooed on his chest. He lost his favorite hat in Hat Gai, Thailand, dodging rebels who blew up a local McDonalds. On January 1, 2012 he gave up his home and possessions to travel indefinitely until “something enormous happens”. He relocated to Namibia to record an album with Becoming Phill, a producer he met on Twitter, and subsequently did the same with Esa FunkPrez in Italy and Mute Speaker in the UK. He has worked with House Shoes, Dibia$e, Computer Jay, P.U.D.G.E. and Prince Po of Organized Konfusion. Gilles Peterson kicked off his BBC Best of Hip-Hop 2009 mix with a Malkovich verse. DJ Premier, The Wake Up Show and The Source support his new album Great Expectations, which Hit The Floor Magazine called "genre-resuscitating". He's currently living somewhere between Southern Africa and the South China Sea. Click here to hear this bio in song form.
"I was a fan of Malkovich the first time I heard him. Yall know I do NOT F**K AROUND with my cosigns.” -DJ HOUSE SHOES "the new face of underground grime... this guy is owning everyone in the current scene, and you better believe it" -HITTHEFLOOR
"Malkovich fits into a niche being carved out by a new breed of rappers." -EARBITS.COM "Malkovich is a super duper greasy middle easty emcee" -KING TECH, WAKE UP SHOW "Mad Max, Ray Liotta and Banksy mixed together" @BeastySteeeve "P-P-P-Premier" -DJ PREMIER, while spinning "Bedbugs"
"PALMS" directed, shot and edited by me | from GREAT EXPECTATIONS (download) | song produced by X-Man featuring the late great Jesse The Parking Lot King (read)
read my long-running blog The Palms Weekend, all about the L.A. neighborhood of Palms
Jesse almost died during the making of this video. I’ve seen him almost die three times, and only once I wasn’t sure he would die cool. The first two strokes he rode out in the driver’s seat of that truck like fevers, nodding at me as I walked up and squeezing out choice words through wet lips. The last time he couldn’t walk, all he could do is stand in the middle of the lot and cry in his friend’s arms while people drove around them trying not to cry too. He told me he wouldn’t survive surgery, he was tired of the hospital, he wanted his mother to fly him home. On the way to his cousin’s house he forgot both our names and where we were going. But he made sure I stopped by T&D’s on Slauson and Keniston to cop his last cigarette. By his fifth cellphone call to St. Louis from his cousin’s lawn he was barely breathing. By the time the third fire truck showed up he had to be talked out of walking off down the street. Pride kills him and revives him, every day. He was mad at me for a while for making that call. And I was mad at him for forcing me to make it. When you’re really hurting, you handle that alone. You spare your people your burden. His mother sent me a thank you card. Mrs Brown downstairs passed away a couple of weeks ago. The funeral announcement had the first young photos of her I had ever seen; made me wish I had known her then. Don’t get buried at Inglewood Cemetary if you have soft-speaking relatives. The planes overhead will drown out every other heartfelt word of their speeches. Lucile was 80; she had a good run. And even when she had fallen out of her walker, she would wait thirty minutes before shouting my name, and she would apologize until I was gone, happy to help, sad that I couldn’t. She knew the rules, too well. Nights I lay sweating atop hardwood and bedbug stains, hours after trying to sleep way too early, 15 feet in either direction from two people dying slow. I wish I had been there more for the people around me. But I always was. Just behind a wall. I hope they could feel me. I definitely felt them. Larry & Angel sent me a thank you card. Lot of thank you cards this summer.
Jesse Servey died on October 31, 2011 peacefully at his sister’s home in St. Louis.