In a city where finding live bands is no more difficult than a stroll to the corner bar, some may find it hard to imagine another musical movement is simmering under the surface.

Despite last year's song by popular singer Nas declaring “Hip Hop is Dead,” Auburn has at least a dozen home studios, countless rappers of varying talents and break dancers. The hip hop movement has influenced the city's dance studios, early education centers, and public theater, but is slow to trickle into local bars on the weekends.

“I was amazed how many people are doing (hip hop) in Auburn, and even more move to Auburn to do this,” said Sean McLeod, a local resident who is a producer, among other things.

Darryl Clark and Neno Lawrence operate GNT Muzik, a music production company with a studio on the corner of Washington and Genesee streets.

“We're striving to do something in this town. We're based out of here, even though we're not from here, but we call it home, and our company calls this home,” said Lawrence, the company vice president.

Word of mouth brought most of the dozen artists to GNT Muzik. Wednesday's karaoke night in Spirits Tavern also provided Clark and Lawrence a chance to scope out the local talent.

Daryl King is one such artist. Known as Crisys, his album “Crisys Situation” hit No. 2 on Audio Lunchbox for hip hop albums. Sonicwave Intl/Sony BMG is distributing the album.

The Harlem native visited family in the area and heard about Clark. He's since remained in Auburn for three years to work with GNT.

“Hip hop is growing. It has been here for a couple years. What we brought to the table is to get it to the surface,” Clark said.

A native of Queens, Clark was recruited to play sports at Cayuga Community College in 1997 and came back to Auburn after he graduated from a college in Pittsburgh. He points to what many refer to as the Auburn Underground as a way to bring awareness of the cultural movement.

“It's about the real meaning of hip hop ... For me that's love, love for everything, everybody,” Clark said.

Seeing a need to organize, McLeod brought together the Auburn Underground to offer guidance and support to those artists trying to make themselves known in the cultural movement. At the first meeting, about six months ago, 20 performers attended, eager to get advice on marketing, packaging and advertising their hip hop music. McLeod wears many hats, such as New York Institute of Dance and Education president, corporate facilitator for Reaching for Higher Ground Consulting, and artistic director of the Kaleidoscope Dance Theatre.

The group discussed how to focus and distribute their messages. This includes the idea of crossover, or allowing their music to appeal to a wider audience. Performers may want to keep curse words in some songs to emphasize messages, but this may turn away certain audiences, McLeod said.

Auburn rapper Luke Wejko, known as saintluke, takes criticism for using obscenities in his songs, but he said other generations always believe the next generation's music is vulgar, from Elvis's pelvis swing to Ice-T's song “Cop Killer.”

“When you say something controversial, that's when people listen,” Wejko said.

King thinks that some songs have to make it to the radio to get their points across, but there are just some songs that can't be fit for public marketing.

“It's about the streets,” the 28-year-old said about rap music. “If you listen to the lyrics, we give messages to kids in it.”

King's single “Read Between the Lines” deals with stereotypes, such as the thought that all black people are great dancers. He also writes about AIDS and other current issues.

Because they operate on a smaller scale, artists such as King and Wejko write their own lyrics. Some create their own beats and design posters and album covers, but GNT Muzik does this for its artists. Clark and Lawrence produce beats under the name the Beat Dox.

“This is happening under the wire ... this is happening and nobody knows about it,” McLeod said.

Some people are unwilling to work with hip hop artists to the same degree as other musicians in the community, he said. He points to the demographics as a reason - most artists are black men. Some venue owners require larger deposits from young black men, McLeod said.

“That kind of shocked me,” he said, stressing the need for multiculturalism.

Artists are trying to spread their messages backed with urban beats to a predominately white city. Auburn has a nearly 8 percent black population, and 89 percent white, according to the U.S. Census data.

McLeod saw the need to teach the young men how to bring their messages and products to the market, while remaining true to themselves.

When their messages are presented successfully, people may actually see hip hop artists as intelligent people with something to say, rather than guys in baggy pants, McLeod said.

“We all put on costumes.” he said. “If I put on a tuxedo or baggy clothes, it doesn't depict intelligence. We've just allowed ourselves to be comfortable with the tuxedos.”

Wejko has to combat another stereotype. When the white man goes to club owners to discuss possible gigs, often they assume he's in a rock band rather than a rapper.

He produces music under his own Auburn record label, Demented Records.

The 24-year-old continues to get his name out in Auburn and hopes his fan base will grow exponentially. He has to build networks to break into other cities' markets. When he goes to Geneva or Syracuse, he's just another want-to-be rapper, he said.

It's hard for him to tap into a predominantly black culture.

McLeod tells the group to recognize some music may make white people uncomfortable, some may make black people uncomfortable. They have to weigh that before marketing their albums.

Hip hop artists are continuing their struggle to find places willing to play their music for audiences.

Often, DJs are hesitant to play his CD, and bar owners don't want to take a chance on unknown music, Wejko said.

Auburn Public Theater has offered spaces for rent for Wejko, and earned a shout out on Wejko's album “Fire in the Sky” for being the city's best venue.

He also has a concert at Friends coming up on July 13. King often performs at the Auburn Public Theater, Friends, Polish Falcons and Roadhouse.

“We hope (people) take the time to find out what's in their own backyard,” Lawrence said, adding many people don't recognize the talent that's in Auburn and surrounding areas.

Meanwhile, McLeod said that shows he attends are packed with audiences reflecting the region's demographics, mostly white listeners from young to middle age.

“Clearly, there's no doubt there's a following,” McLeod said.

There are quite a few rappers, despite of the lack of willing venues, Wejko said.

From the early 1980s, hip hop was a hard scene to move around in and start somewhere new. However, recent technology makes recording songs and albums easier, causing an influx of artists, from hobbyists to hopeful stars.

“The industry is being flooded. They don't know understand the art of rap and hip hop,” Clark said.

People see finished products on radio and television and think they can produce the same results, he said.

“Unbelievably, (studios) are the one thing not lacking in Auburn,” Wejko said.

Getting their products to the general public is a little bit harder.

The music store On Cue used to keep a handful of locally produced albums on the shelves, but the store closed earlier this year. Chain stores often require proof of record deals before they market CDs, a problem for people who operate their own studios.

Artists also turn to the Internet. Most people won't buy music they haven't heard, so, like artists before him, Wejko sells most of his music at his venues.

Singers have to build themselves up with business owners to get people to come to the shows before they allow them to perform, but to build a fan base, they have to have shows.

“I'm just trying to get my thing rolling,” he said.

This cultural influence has spread beyond the studios.

One pair of entrepreneurs wants to include it in early childhood development.

Karin Moskov and friend Bob Trepani are organizing the Family Wellness Institute, to offer a series of off-beat classes, including hip hop and break dancing.

“In seeking classes to offer, we wanted to offer things that aren't around and aren't readily available,” Moskov said.

The beat-heavy music and choreographed dancing can help children find a sense of themselves, their own rhythm, he said.

“There's a lot of counting involved in break dancing so it's great for rhythm and patterns. They also get a sense of self-esteem and body awareness, which is important for little kids,” Moskov said.

But like most people presenting hip hop to people who aren't familiar with the cultural movement, she has to overcome stereotypes and parents' fears.

She has to teach people that it's family friendly, not that “hard-core Eminem business” or spray painting under bridges.

Meanwhile, Yvonne Hassett, owner of Absolute Dance, has worked in elements of the hip hop culture in her Auburn dance studio.

Some people may associate the urban music style with gangs or violence. Hassett is trying to chisel away the community's fears bit by bit.

At Absolute's last show, organizers included a DJ spinning music during the performance as well as some breakers.

If it's presented in a positive environment, people will accept it, Hassett said. She offers a half-dozen classes teaching hip hop dance and break dancing, broken up by levels and age groups.

McLeod aims to form a hip hop festival to give performers public place to share their messages, and learn from others. He hopes such an event would make people realize that there could be an economic investment for the community. The city sponsoring urban musicians could legitimize who they are and what they do, he added.

“I like the idea that you can ... in the bigger picture, you can broadcast what you want to say to million of people,” Wejko said.

Staff writer Jessica Soule can be reached at 253-5311 ext. 267 or jessica.soule@lee.net