The Future was difficult to contact. Berru knew that they were operating nearby — their Web clips and pics showed them acting out sadomasochistic fantasies in the Fairfax district, and sporting gear from the Supreme skate store in that area. Yet asking around proved futile. Finally, in September, Berru tapped his longtime friend and client, Wu-Tang Clansman GZA, to assist the search effort. Shortly after GZA tweeted at the gang, Mike G got back at them.
"I knew that nobody else really gave a fuck about people who wanted to talk to us," says Mike. "So I just figured I'd take care of it."
A few days later Berru and Ryder arrived at the address Mike G gave them — a Spanish-style upper-middle-class home in the Washington-Crenshaw district. Right away things seemed off; the scenery didn't match the insanity they'd seen on YouTube, and this didn't look like a hangout for wild teens who pop pills, guzzle Robitussin, and grind handrails.
"I thought it was a joke, and that they were screwing with us," says Berru. "We rang the bell for like 10 minutes, and nobody came out. We almost left thinking it was all a waste of time."
After Berru knocked some more, an older man answered who didn't seem sure what they were looking for. Luckily, a female relative of Odd Future members Syd the Kid and Taco, who live at the residence, was there to direct Ryder and Berru to a guest house out back where Syd, the posse's head producer (and sole female member), has her lab. They'd finally found the Odd Future bunker: a respectable studio with instruments and CDs scattered everywhere, but hardly the crack dungeon that one might expect after watching their videos.
"It was really quiet and awkward at first," says Berru. Rather than giving a standard interview, Tyler lied about his name, and shared stories about how much he likes to jerk off.
"Tyler really talks to himself," says Mike G. "That nigga's weird as fuck. Trust me — the more people watch, the more shit they'll see that they won't believe."
The other members weren't much better, rushing in and out of the room and treating their guests like lame adults who crashed a high-school kegger.
"For a while they were really fucking with us badly — especially with [Ryder]," continues Berru. "Tyler has a big vision — and that vision never included having a publicist."
The wolf gang didn't trust him yet. Nonetheless, he left with their contact info — and a foot in the door.
WOLF GANG CLAN
Tyler has drawn a face on a paper bag. He insists that Carson Daly, whom they're ignoring on the set of Last Call, talk to the bag, which the Odd Future gang is calling "Earl." Hodgy's cell keeps ringing, and he answers it despite being in the middle of an interview. He's not the only one acting up; the whole crew is cursing on camera, goofing off, and not giving a fuck.
All these things add up to one long bleep — which is why you'll never see this footage on television. NBC cut it before the show aired.
Berru had hooked up the ill-fated spot. But he wasn't fazed. He never once thought that being Odd Future's publicist would be easy.
