Eddie Caine.
What more can be said about this genius, this animal, this healer of open wounds?
Little is known about him, and what is known can only be proven in a court of madness.
Born in Brooklyn NYC, raised in Queens, NYC, and once again dwelling in Brooklyn, NYC, the lab which Caine calls his home is covered in posters of zombies, superheroes, random artwork, and pictures of L'il Kim when she was a sista.
Beats are made haphazardly and often under the influence of many liquorsm known and unknown. "MIDI is for pussies", he declares, hurling an empty bottle of Jagermeister at a wall already covered with impaact stains from so many others. "I don't use that shit." Somehow, he plays all music and samples by ear into his dilapidated VS-1680.
SO many friends and alliances have been made, he cannot mention them all. Many stages have been graced, a few have been passed out upon.
You must see an Eddie Caine show, hear an Eddie Caine track before you die. Otherwise, you have lived for no reason.
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