(Broadway Books)

www.broadwaybooks.com

Ask any somewhat-knowledgeable hipster with an ear for hip-hop their favorite song, and chances are they'll answer with "The Message," by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five. After all, the song is the highest-rated hip-hop entry (#51) on Rolling Stone's "500 Greatest Songs of All Time" list; was one of 50 recordings added to the National Recording Registry in 2002 (along with other prominent, random, cultural-changing entries such as the "War of the Worlds" broadcast by Orson Welles, ‘White Christmas" by Bing Crosby and The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan); and, with its lyrics about the hardship of life on the streets, paved the way for hip-hop as we know it.

But in truth? Grandmaster Flash, whose name was plastered on the record, wanted nothing to do with it - and didn't even work on it. In fact, according to The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash: My Life, My Beats, Flash's memoir, it's "The Message" and its ensuing popularity that cheated him out of millions, helped tear his group apart and nudged him down a spiraling path of wasted creativity (fueled by plenty of coke).

"Nobody in the group liked it," Flash writes of the song. "Not at first, anyway - the shit was too dark, way too edgy, and way too much of a downer. It was the furthest thing from a party rap anyone could imagine. ... I'm trying not to lose my head, and I'm also trying not to lose my group ... But I think I'm losing both."

Ironic, huh?

In this memoir, co-written by David Ritz (known for his biographies on soul and R&B musicians, Ritz is the man behind the insightful Divided Soul: The Life & Times of Marvin Gaye), Flash divulges that anecdote and countless others about struggling through his childhood (during which his father, before abandoning their family, regularly beat him for listening to his records); attempting to make it big as a B-boy and graffiti artist before settling on DJ-ing; getting screwed over by Sugar Hill Records; and descending into addiction.

The book is separated into five parts, each of which focuses on a different part of Flash's life and most of which are introduced by a quote from another artist. The best quote: "Industry Rule number 4080 ... Record company people are shay-deeeee," from A Tribe Called Quest. Fittingly, it precedes Part Three, "And Ya Don't Stop," in which Flash scathingly describes Sugar Hill Records' corrupt business dealings and manipulation of his group.

And while the book's straight-forward, casual style makes it easy to read (this reviewer finished the 250-page book in one day), Flash's hyping up of his own life - ending chapters on cliffhangers, switching back and forth between different romances and describing his friendships with other artists, such as Rick James - makes it fun. You'll stay intrigued - and grow ever more impressed - while learning about how Flash began to DJ, discovered cutting, perfected the quik mix theory and rose to prominence in New York's hip-hop scene.

But it's not all good times. Flash's description of his fight with Sugar Hill Records over his own name is a slice of David vs. Goliath, pop-culture history, and things get even more serious in Part Four, "Hell," and Part Five, "Life After Death," as Flash recounts his time addicted to freebasing coke: "I'd been in a coma for two days. I needed eight quarts of saline to get me rehydrated. I had blisters on my lips and fingers from pipes and lighters. Thanks to a steady diet of nothing but smoking coke for months on end, my teeth were a mess and I weighed 118 pounds," he writes.

If you follow Flash at all, you know the story ends happily - Flash currently hosts a show on Sirius Satellite Radio, has his own clothing line and was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last year. But the present certainly doesn't make this book about Flash's past any less of an adventure. ROXANA HADADI