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—Malcolm

To Mom, Dad, Grandma, Aunty Delia, Michael, Jarad and Malcolm. And to June Charles (Ga Ga) May you rest in peace my guardian angel.

—Alec

To Mom, Uncle Moe, & G, Grandma, Grandpa, Nana, & Aunty. My buddies Alec & Malcolm #teamtruth!

—Jarad

WHEN I WAS ASKED to write this foreword, I said I would be honored. And that I am.

I share a lot with the guys who wrote this book, the members of Unlocking the Truth. Like the boys in the band—Malcolm, Jarad, and Alec—I loved music from an early age, and made it part of my life. This was in Philly, where my apprenticeship came first from my parents, who were touring musicians, and then at CAPA, a performing arts school.

At CAPA, I met Tarik Trotter, and the two of us started our band. At first, we called ourselves Radio Activity, then Black to the Future, then the Square Roots. This was all leading up to the Roots. I thought we had gotten an early start. Now, reading about Unlocking the Truth, it seems late. Malcolm, Jarad and Alec got a jump on the process at an age when I was still messing with stage lighting on tour with my parents. They became hardcore buskers before they were out of middle school. I mean that in two ways. They’re hardcore because they’re devoted to the process, because they care enough to care enough. But they’re also hardcore because of how they sound. When people first told me about them, I had a sound picture in my head, but I wasn’t prepared for what I heard. They’re classified as a power trio—meaning that they have guitar, bass and drums—but they’re not a power trio like the Jimi Hendrix Experience (history lesson: psychedelic rock) or ZZ Top (blues rock) or Rush (prog rock). This has lots of metal in it, and heavy metal at that. Unlocking the Truth is in the tradition of bands like Bad Brains and Living Colour and 24-7 Spyz, bands that mixed up genres from punk to thrash to reggae to whatever else was around. Black rock, they called it. They should keep calling it that.

Bands of kids don’t come along that often. I mean, you occasionally see roaming bands of kids, but not musical bands. You have the Jacksons and the Osmonds. You have the Shaggs and the Pleasure Seekers and Care Bears on Fire. And now you have Unlocking the Truth. They signed a big record deal with Sony Records, but that’s not the biggest deal about them. The biggest deal is the truth of the band, which will be in the record they make, and it’s in this book too. It lets us see them at the beginning of their journey, sharing tips on family stresses, school, girls. Malcolm and Jarad have been friends since before they could walk, and they take us through the history of that relationship. The book shows them being kids, with all the strangeness, innocence, insecurity and self-possession that it implies. One minute, they’re reflecting on the lessons of Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry, and the next they’re singing the glories of Grand Theft Auto. They’re ordinary middle-schoolers through and through.

Except that they are also artists. This book—and the lives it documents—isn’t about playing Afropunk or Coachella or the Vans Warped Tour or appearing on The Colbert Report or serving as an opening act for Guns N’ Roses (get it? unlocking/opening?), although the band has done all those things. It’s about something else, something musical, something magical. Open up to the passage about the band winning Amateur Night at the Apollo, and see if doesn’t put a lump in your throat. Open to the passage about perfecting a heavy metal singing technique that also preserves your voice, and see if it doesn’t give you insight into the physical stresses of performing. Throughout, the tone is unguarded and honest. The band members have enough experience that they don’t need to pretend to have wisdom. In the first chapter, Malcolm is working on a song. “It’s an old riff that I came up with a couple years ago,” he writes. That’s the way to do it: Act like you’ve been there before. And maybe they have. Music unites the past and the present in ways that aren’t easy to understand. And whether you’re an adult reading this book before you hand it off to your kids or a kid reading it to get a sense of the band’s extraordinary achievement, it has the same effect. Unlocking the Truth have been and are committed to their craft. I hope that you let them show you what they’ve shown me, which is that they understand that dedication to art is the beginning and the end, and that hard work is its own reward.

• 2008—Malcolm and Jarad start practicing music in the basement

• October 2011—Tryouts for the Apollo

• March 7, 2012—Tears of Blood plays at Amateur Night at the Apollo Theater

• May 2012—Performance at the Fabulous Fifth Avenue Fair in Park Slope, Brooklyn (first paid gig)

• July 2012—Performances at the International African Arts Festival in Brooklyn and African American Heritage Celebration in Westchester, NY

• July 2012–October 2012—Unlocking the Truth begins performing in Times Square and Washington Square Park

• October 13, 2012—Steve Jordan discovers Unlocking the Truth in Washington Square Park

• November 2012—Alec starts practicing with Unlocking the Truth

• December 26, 2012—Cystic Fibrosis Foundation fund-raiser at the Bitter End, NYC

• February 2, 2013—Alec officially joins the band

• March 2013—Unlocking the Truth plays Tammany Hall, NYC

• April 2013—Unlocking the Truth returns to Times Square (with Alec)

• April 2013—YouTube performance videos go viral

• May 2013—Unlocking the Truth shoots first commercial, for AT&T

• June 2013—Unlocking the Truth’s final performance in Times Square

• June 4, 2013—Unlocking the Truth competes in Battle of the Bands to win a slot at Afropunk

• August 10, 2013—Unlocking the Truth opens for Scar the Martyr at the Studio at Webster Hall

• September 12, 2013—Alan Sacks emails Unlocking the Truth’s website

• November 2013—Unlocking the Truth shoots commercial for Beats by Dre

• November 9, 2013—Unlocking the Truth plays the Fun Fun Fun Fest in Austin, TX

• November 24, 2013—Unlocking the Truth plays Brooklyn Nets’ kids day at Barclays Center

• December 2013—Unlocking the Truth shoots commercial for Cole Haan

• December 7, 2013—Unlocking the Truth auditions for The Cherry Party

• April–June 2014—Malcolm starts classes with Melissa Cross

• March 1, 2014—Unlocking the Truth speaks at the TEDxTeen 2014 NYC Conference

• March 14, 2014—Unlocking the Truth plays the Heart of Austin Presented by Sony

• April 11, 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Motorhead at Club Nokia in Los Angeles, CA

• April 12 & 19, 2014—Unlocking the Truth performs at Coachella

• May 2014—Unlocking the Truth shoots commercial for Verizon

• May 13, 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Guns N’ Roses at the Sands Casino in Bethlehem, PA

• May 18, 2014—Unlocking the Truth performs at the Skate and Surf Festval in Asbury Park, NJ

• June 2014—Recorded demos at Ultra Sound Studio

• June 6–7, 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Guns N’ Roses at The Joint at The Hard Rock Hotel & Casino

• July 2014—$1.8 million five-album deal with Sony announced

• July 2014—Vans Warped Tour

• July 2014—Unlocking the Truth starts working on album

• July 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Queens of the Stone Age at the Mann Center in Philadelphia, PA

• August 9, 2014—Unlocking the Truth performs at Heavy Montreal

• August 9, 2014—Unlocking The Truth meets Metallica

• August 12–23, 2014—Unlocking the Truth records EP with Johnny K, Brooklyn, NY

• August 24, 2014—Unlocking the Truth plays Afropunk in Brooklyn, NY

• September 2014—Unlocking the Truth plays the Troubadour in West Hollywood and Webster Hall in New York

• September 14, 2014—Unlocking the Truth plays Aftershock Festival in Sacramento, CA

• September 16, 2014—Unlocking the Truth on The Colbert Report

• September 18–20, 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Living Colour’s Synesthesia Tour

• October 2014—Unlocking the Truth shoots music videos for “Monster” and “Chaos”

• October 7–8, 2014—Unlocking the Truth opens for Lacuna Coil’s Broken Crown Halo Tour

• November 30, 2014— Unlocking the Truth opens for Living Colour’s Synesthesia Tour

• January 23–24 & 29–31, 2015—Unlocking the Truth plays with Marilyn Manson on tour

For us to become Unlocking the Truth, we had to have faith that we could do what some thought was impossible. But belief in ourselves wasn’t enough. We had to be determined to make it happen. In the first three chapters, we’ll talk about the start of our journey—how the band took flight, winning at the world-famous Apollo, then was brought down to earth, playing for change in Times Square. We’ll tell you how that led to more exposure, more gigs and a whole lot of practice. We did what we had to do so when even bigger opportunities came our way, we were ready.

—Alec

"You have to believe you can do something, no matter what anybody says."

—Malcolm

"I lean on my faith to get me through."

—Jarad

MALCOLM

Boy, it’s hot in here.

It’s June 2014. We’re in the studio, and it’s burning up. I think they keep the air-conditioning low so there’s no background buzz and the singers’ throats don’t dry out. But the grown folks in the room—Mom and Alan Sacks, our comanager—are sweating. The Vitaminwater we’re guzzling down won’t stay cold.

It’s a Saturday afternoon near the end of spring, but the day smells like summer. About now, a lot of the kids in my Brooklyn neighborhood are probably looking for the ice cream truck so that they can cool off or playing ball at the park, counting down with every dribble and dunk the days until school is officially over.

Two hundred and seventy down—five more to go!

But not me, Alec and Jarad. We’re at the Ultra Sound Studio on West 30th Street in Manhattan, trying to get this song right. It doesn’t have a name. Not yet. It’s an old riff that I came up with a couple years ago. Back then, I recorded it on my computer and pretty much forgot about it. Then a few days ago, my dad, Tracey, was driving our van into the city. He put a disc in the DVD player and that dusty riff sounded brand-new.

UTT TIMELINE

•June 2014

Recorded demos at Ultra Sound Studio

Since we were kind of in a writing slump, having trouble coming up with new beats, Jarad said why don’t we take that hook and build on it? So . . . here we are.

I don’t write my music down, but when a melody comes to me, it’s like I have an Etch A Sketch in my brain and I quickly scribble it. Then, as soon as I can get to my guitar, I start to play and use my Logic Pro X program to record it on my phone or laptop. When the band comes over, I play it for them, and if they like it, Jarad will usually come up with a drumbeat and then Alec will weigh in with his bass. Lyrics come last.

Riffs can come to me at any time, during Language Arts class at school, in the middle of a video game, at skate camp. I just have to feel it. If you came to me and commanded, “Malcolm, write me a song!” I couldn’t do it. Well, maybe I could, but it wouldn’t be as good because it wouldn’t be natural. I have to be in the mood to create.

Along with much of the music, I write most of our group’s lyrics. I started putting my own words to music when I was about eleven. At first I was just writing whatever rhymed.

“I put my hand in my pocket! It burns like a socket!”

Well, the lyrics weren’t quite that whack. But they weren’t that complicated either. It was more important to me that the words sounded alike than that they meant something.

And then I started writing songs about things that actually mattered to me because I started understanding what lyrics are about. I like talking about being free and doing what you want to do. About religion and God. And relationships too.

My favorite groups—Three Days Grace and Escape the Fate—tell stories with their songs. It was like they used words to build a bridge from themselves to me because it seemed like they knew exactly how I was feeling. That made me want to keep listening. They made me believe that they understood what I was going through. And I want the people who listen to my songs to believe I understand them too.

But right now, this latest song is just a skeleton. Forget lyrics. We can’t even get the rhythm right.

“It’s not distinct enough,” Alec says after I add an extra trill to the melody.

“I think it needs to rock harder!” says Alan.

This is getting frustrating. I’ve been stumped before and I know that if I keep thinking about it, playing with it, believing in it, the right rhythm will come. Still, this is one of those rare moments when I can’t wait till we’re done. Maybe when we’re finished, Mom will take me up the street to Midtown Comics and get me the latest issue of Death Note. Can’t wait to see who Light wipes out next!

Suddenly, Sam, our manager’s daughter, bursts in.

“I think Weezer is next door!” she says, trying to catch her breath.

Weezer doesn’t rock metal like us, but it’s a pretty good and really famous alternative rock band that’s sold about a billion records. And they have these very cool videos directed by Spike Jonze.

She’s grinning so hard, her cheeks might burst. But I still don’t believe her.

“No, they’re not,” I say calmly.

“Yes!” She’s almost screaming now. “I hear them! They’re playing ‘Island in the Sun.’”

I don’t believe it. “Why would they be here?” I ask.

But it might have been them. In our world, anything’s possible.

If you’re talking about Unlocking the Truth, you’re talking about me, Jarad and Alec. I’m Malcolm Brickhouse. Alec Atkins is our bass player, and Jarad Dawkins plays the drums. We’re all best friends and the three of us do everything together. Spend the night at each other’s house, hang out at the park, and now we’re blasting our music out to the universe, playing gigs all over the country. But in the beginning, it was just me and Jarad.

I’ve known Jarad from a time that I can’t remember, before either of us could walk or speak. Still, when I try to think back to the first time I saw him, we were four years old, at his birthday party. Now that I’m older, I know the party was held in a Brooklyn storefront, but back then it looked like me and Mom had gotten free passes to the Big Apple Circus.

There were balloons all over the place. There was a clown scaring half the kids and making the rest of us laugh, pulling quarters from our ears and snapping bunny rabbits out of thin air. Machines were churning popcorn, just like at the movies, and whipping up clouds of cotton candy like you get at those street fairs that make my dad upset when he’s driving because they close down blocks all over New York in the summertime.

Then, there was Jarad. He had on a Scooby-Doo costume that made his little self look ten feet tall.

Jarad and Malcolm, friends from way back

Actually, me and Jarad are almost related. My dad has a cousin, Denise, who also lives in Brooklyn with her husband, the Reverend Nathan Williams. Jarad is their godson. Denise’s family is always having birthday parties and barbecues, and when me and Jarad were babies, we’d usually be the only really little kids there, so we’d play together. Or so Mom tells me. But it’s when me and Jarad think of his fourth birthday party that we first remember each other.

Over the next couple of years, we’d only hang out when we were at those family barbecues or maybe another kid’s birthday party. But one day Jarad asked if he could come over to my house. He was like me, no brothers or sisters at home, and sometimes no one to play with when it was cold outside and everyone in the neighborhood stayed indoors or when our friends were away, visiting relatives.

That was it. We started hanging out all the time. Mom or Dad would pick him up after school on Friday and Jarad wouldn’t see his own room, in his own house, until Sunday night.

Once Jarad went with my family to Colonial Williamsburg. It was Christmastime and we saw actors dressed up like Revolutionary War soldiers, bonfires on the street corners, and windows decorated with long, burning candles. But we were back in Brooklyn by New Year’s because Mom thought it was just too cold. We used to go to the Pocono Mountains all the time too, whizzing down the hills on our sleds in the winter. We went in the summertime too, slipping and sliding on the grass when we played ball or tag.

The Poconos is a mountain resort area only about ninety-five miles away from New York City, but it might as well have been the North Pole, it felt so different. Back home, in our patches of Brooklyn, there was always noise outside, a reggae or rap tune blasting like a sonic boom from a passing car, neighbors laughing as they tried to catch a summer breeze on their stoop or a park bench. But in the Poconos, the air was so clean, it made your nose tingle, and when we were finished playing outside, getting ready for bed, there were miles and miles of quiet.

Me and Mom live in a house in East Flatbush. It’s a neighborhood that forty or fifty years ago was full of Italian Americans but now is mostly West Indian and African American. Mom bought the house five years before I was born, to have enough room for her ninety-nine-year-old grandmother, Eloise, to come back from Sumter, South Carolina, and live with her. But I guess my great-grandma missed being with her relatives down South, and after a three-week visit, she went back to South Carolina.

Mom and Dad also eventually divorced, though they are still friends and are always working together to give me everything I need. So, in the house in East Flatbush, it’s just me and Mom. The lawn out front is tiny, but Mom still complains that taking care of a house is too much trouble. She keeps saying that she can’t wait till someone strolls by and leaves one of those “cash for your house” signs on the front door so she can sell it and move to an apartment where someone else has to worry about fixing the air conditioner or repairing the roof when it sprouts a leak. But she’s been saying that for as long as I can remember, so I’m not counting on packing my bags anytime soon.

When we were younger, me and Jarad would usually hang out downstairs in the basement. It ran the whole length of the house and had these long brown striped couches and a TV almost as big as the movie screen at the UA movie theater on Court Street.

Mom used to have parties down there. She’d send me to my cousin’s house so I wouldn’t be there, but from what I’ve heard, at seven the next morning, everybody would just be leaving to go home! I can imagine the music bubbling up through my bedroom floor. The Ohio Players and Slave from the seventies, New Edition and Prince from the eighties, TLC, Tupac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. from the nineties. Mom hung a silvery disco ball on the ceiling and I’ll bet it was rocking and spinning just like Mom and all her friends and relatives dancing around the room.

Young Malcolm at a Karate lesson

But eventually Mom took the disco ball down. And when the grown folks weren’t downstairs watching a football game, me and Jarad turned the den into our clubhouse, a stage where we could be whatever we wanted to be. First, all we wanted to be was ninjas.

Silently, quickly, we’d slink around the edges of the room. The evil villain we were chasing would suddenly be in sight. We’d strike.

“Hwaaaaaa-ya!!”

Then, when all that slinking and sliding got old, we decided we wanted to be wrestlers. We’d stand on a shelf, four feet in the air, and take flight. I’d crash to the ground, do a flip, and jump to my feet. I never got hurt. Not even once.

I’d gotten into wrestling after I saw the WWE on TV. I was maybe seven or eight years old. One day I asked Jarad about it and it turned out that he liked all that slamming, body punching, and loud talking too. Pretty soon Dad started taking us to Madison Square Garden in Manhattan, Prudential Center in Newark, and any other spot where we could see the WWE in person.

SmackDown. Monday night Raw. WWE NXT. We loved it all.

Malcolm, age 7, Brooklyn Masonic Temple Wrestling Match

Inside the arena, before the show started, flames would erupt and dance around the ring. They were leaping toward the roof, but they couldn’t jump as high as me, Jarad and all the other fans screaming for our favorite wrestlers to crush it out. My voice is a little raspy anyway, and we’d yell so loud that when we were in the car, headed back to Brooklyn, Jarad sounded a lot like me, and neither one of us could squeak out more than a whisper.

Jarad really liked John Cena, who looked kind of like Superman would if he was a really cool Marine carved out of concrete. He’s won more than a dozen WWE championships and is probably one of the greatest wrestlers of all time. But even more than his wrestling moves, Jarad really admired his devotion to the military, his love for his country. John Cena even gives a salute before jumping in the ring—then beats his opponent down to the floor.

I guess to display that kind of patriotism, then give his opponent a pounding, John Cena was showing that he was as devoted to the USA as he was to his fans. Both were worth fighting for. It may sound a little crazy, but Jarad thinks in that way, he and John Cena actually have something in common, because he also feels really committed to our fans, and he has a really strong faith in our band. That’s how come Jarad can play his heart out at a show even when he’s not feeling well. That’s what keeps him practicing after he’s been in school all day and is way tired. Like me, he never wants to let the fans down, and we both believe our band has the potential to be one of the best around.

But as much as Jarad loved John Cena, the Undertaker was both of our favorite. He had this trick where he’d roll his eyes to the back of his head. Freaky! Brutal!

Now that I’m thirteen, I think wrestling is boring. And I realize it actually looked faker in person than it did on TV. But back then I thought every flip, every stomp was real. I also think me and Jarad might have loved wrestling so much because it was like manga come to life. It was like those black-and-white characters had stepped off the page, through a car wash of color, and into the ring.