In memory of Scott "Tropik" Ricks

Scott Tropik was one of the first people I met when I started hanging out in DC almost a decade ago. I remember our first meeting. It was his 18th birthday, and we were at Twilo, the legendary Manhattan nightclub, to hear Sasha and John Digweed’s monthly set. When I met this larger-than-life long-hair, I made a big deal about wishing him a happy birthday when I found out, and made an even bigger deal of telling him to go fuck himself just after midnight, when it was no longer his birthday.

Probably my fondest memory of Scott Tropik is the night that I joined two other DJs, Xodus and Cyzum (who then called himself Hybrid) to spin records, drink beer, and hang out in Tropik's basement. We ordered pizza at some point in the evening, and when it arrived Tropik went to answer the door. I was a little drunk so I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but what I do know is that words were exchanged, at least one punch was thrown, and no money changed hands. I don’t know if pizza has ever, before or since, tasted so hilarious.

I remember Tropik urging me to "drop my slave name" and start calling myself Fensta X. For a while, I even did. I remember Tropik enthusiastically trying unsuccessfully to get "stone cold lampin'" to gain traction as a catchphrase. To this day I have no idea what the hell he was actually talking about. I remember when I first saw him after he chopped off all his hair. At the time I asked if he was going all establishment on me. I remember the time he dropped a Spice Girls record in the front room at Buzz. Those of us lucky enough to have known Tropik will always remember his humor, his talent, and his spirit. I will never forget his friendship.

Scott "Tropik" Ricks died on Tuesday, February 21, 2006. He was 26 years old.