In every way, Kenan Jamal Hercules was a fighter. Although the percussionist, producer and rapper spent his days at Jefferson High School wearing a beaming and goofy smile and his bookbag way too high up his back, Hercules—who died on September 28, about a month away from his 38th birthday—lived up to his mythical moniker and was always battling to make everything, from his bandmates to the world around him, better.
And that spirit should not have surprised anyone.
Kenosobi Hercules Memorial Service
Sat. Dec. 5, 2 p.m. Sold-out.
Crowbar, 1812 N. 17th St., Ybor City.
Support the Family of Kenan "Kenosobi" Hercules
Hercules—better known in Tampa music circles as “Kenosobi”—came from a home anchored by his mom Jennifer and his dad, Keith Hercules, a biology degree holder, boxer and drummer who was born in Trinidad and Tobago before he moved to England where the drums started to take a hold on him. Keith—who passed a year ago after a long struggle with cancer—eventually journeyed back to the Caribbean, relocated to Boston and attended Berklee School of Music where he studied under revered jazz drummer Alan Dawson, all before ending up in Oakland where he was a regular in that other Bay area’s music circuit. Oakland brought Keith and Jennifer together, and the two soon set off for Tampa where they wed in the summer of 1982.
Kenosobi was born that fall and fell under the spell of the kick, toms, snare and cymbals his dad used, too—in fact, Keno used to spend many afternoons at Skipper’s Smokehouse watching Keith play with countless bands. The love affair with rhythm brought Keno to the Jefferson High drumline where, like so many young percussionists, he reveled in rivalries and came of age playing rite of passage songs like “Colorblind.” The hallways of the West Tampa school are where he met and dated the woman he would eventually marry, Tiffiny, a multi-faceted artist in her own right. And it’s where Kenosobi would begin to unknowingly become legendary.
“Everybody gravitated to him,” Tiffiny told Creative Loafing Tampa Bay, adding that the big circle of friends her husband garnered only grew as he moved through the music scene. “There was never a moment where he wasn’t around somebody who he didn’t influence in a positive way, where the person wasn’t, like, ‘Oh my gosh like, I want to stick with you.’”
As a husband and father, there wasn’t a single way Kenosobi didn’t uplift Tiffiny, 38, two sons she had from a previous relationship (Amari, 14, and Gianni, 12) and their three-year-old daughter Kelani.
“He was everything to me,” Tiffiny said, adding that her husband’s kindness—in high school when they dated and again when they reconnected before eventually getting married last year on Juneteenth—carried her through her darkest days. “You could always just call him and he would listen.”
And as a musician, Kenosobi was everywhere, too. He made an appearance in the movie “Drumline” and even once rocked the drum kit for Raekwon and Ghostface Killah during a 2009 Skatepark of Tampa show. Another Tampa legend, DJ Sandman, spun that set at The Ritz and has video of Kenosobi—flanked by the Wu-Tang icons and Tampa bassist Mugabe Tenn—just cruising through “Incarcerated Scarfaces’’ from Raekwon’s 1995 classic solo debut Only Built 4 Cuban Linx….
Like ‘Kwon and Ghostface, Kenosobi sought to always grow. He, too, strived for perfection, and he often touched it. Locally, his list of collaborative partners is exponentially long. If you dip into the local hip-hop scene, you’ll come out drenched in Keno’s production. His influence—be it in the studio, practice space or out and about where he encouraged and checked up on everybody he was friends with—is impossible to escape. To properly acknowledge all the good work Keno did would take at least three pages of newsprint (this weekend’s small, socially-distanced five-hour memorial won’t even be enough either).
“Kenan was a beautiful soul and one of the most talented human beings I’ve ever met,” Keith Hernandez—who collaborated with Hercules in collectives like Gwan Massive—told hosts on Waves of the Bay, a WMNF radio show and podcast dedicated to local hip-hop. “Kenosobi was the heartbeat, literally, of the crew as a percussionist, as an emcee, as a lyricist. He could move through so many different sounds and so many different vibes—that the guy could play any kind of music—he is just a shining light for the city.”
Kenny Pullin, trumpet player for Gwan Massive, was one of a few musicians who got to play alongside both Kenosobi and his dad, Keith, who played drums for D’Visitors.
“One night, Kenan sat in with us when he was still in high school, he was probably about 17 then,” Pullin told CL. When Keith fell ill and could no longer gig with D’Visitors, Keno—always driven to give his all—jumped right in and took over where dad left off.
“He brought his dad’s professional work ethic to the bands we were in together over the last 15 years. Playing with him was always a joy, and he was very versatile stylistically, but his passion was always hip-hop, making beats, and eventually becoming a damn good rapper. ” Pullin added. “His Stand For Something album has stood the test of time. I was extremely proud of him and happy for him.”
Pullin—who’s having a hard time processing the death of a young man who gave so much of himself to the world around him—is referencing Kenosobi’s 2014 solo debut where he’s joined by a who’s who of Tampa hip-hop. The 16-track effort was one of many highlights of Kenosobi’s catalog. That LP, together with output from another one of Kenosobi’s band’s, Hotbox, make up some of the best music the local scene has ever heard. But it wasn’t the exclamation point on Keno’s legacy.
\\
In 2018, he released Trappa Keepa, a much harder album with inspirational lyrics (on it he’s joined by his wife, credited on the LP as TiffLaQueen). A 2020 beat tape, Beats 2 Vibe, followed.
And as not being able to gig and collaborate during the pandemic—combined with the recent loss of his dad—started to wear on his joy, Kenosobi found purpose and happiness standing with others on the streets to protest the killing of George Floyd and the mistreatment of Black people in America.
“He was so invested, we were heavy in the streets. It picked him up out of a little dark hole,” Tiffiny explained, adding that if there was one regret her husband had it would’ve been not getting more regular checkups (Kenosobi made it through a surgery following an aortic aneurysm, but not through the recovery).
“Kenan took care of himself, but he waited too long, and it took a scary incident for him to really take it seriously,” Tiffiny added. Through the last month of grieving, she’s been pouring herself out transparently and poignantly in her online journal, and she hopes her husband’s friends, fans and family can start to normalize regular doctor’s visits. But more than anything, she would like to see the community continue his mission of always standing for something you believe in. With the impact that Kenosobi had on Tampa Bay, it’s hard to believe that they won’t.
“He had so much to give to this world, as a musician, as a man, a husband, father, family member, and friend… I loved him like a brother,” Pullin added. “Every person that knew him, loved him, and although it seems like a light has gone out, and a void has been left in our lives and in our music scene, his impact can still be felt in the music and memories he left behind for us to enjoy and learn from.”
Tampa Bay venues and promoters need you to bug Marco Rubio about saving the live music scene. See a list of Tampa Bay’s “Safe & Sound” live music venues here.
Support local journalism in these crazy days. Our small but mighty team is working tirelessly to bring you up to the minute news on how Coronavirus is affecting Tampa and surrounding areas. Please consider making a one time or monthly donation to help support our staff. Every little bit helps.
Follow @cl_tampabay on Twitter, subscribe to our newsletter, and listen to us on WMNF 88.5-FM’s “Radio Reverb” program every Saturday from 4 p.m.-6 p.m.
This article appears in Dec 3-9, 2020.