Snow aiming to fly again
By BETSY POWELLCanadian Press
TORONTO (CP) -- Four years ago Snow took the world's music charts by storm with his tongue-twisting, rapid-fire rap hit Informer from his debut album, 12 Inches of Snow.
Snow's story -- his real name is Darrin O'Brien -- spread quickly. The young thug, who had grown up in a Toronto housing project, had written the ditty from behind bars about the informer who ratted him out for a crime he denied committing.
O'Brien beat the rap -- attempted murder charges were dropped -- and emerged an international star after recording the prison-penned hit.
If it sounds right out of a movie, check local listings. Well, not quite yet.
Author George Seminara, who directed the Informer video, has written a screenplay about O'Brien's life and apparently there's high-level interest at Miramax, a production and distribution company owned by Disney.
"I want that guy from Romeo and Juliet," says O'Brien, naming the young actor Leonardo DiCaprio as his No. 1 pick to play himself.
Seminara would appear the man for the job. He's made a name for himself chronicling the criminal deeds of the rich and famous. His most recent book is called Celebrity Mug Shots: Celebrities Under Arrest.
O'Brien says the script, at least at this stage, is based on his life on the streets in his pre-Snow days.
"They just liked the fact of how I was brought up," he says.
"Kids growing up together in the neighborhood, drinking, doing this, doing that, you know how it used to be," the 27-year-old says as if to emphasize those days are behind him.
Signs are they are, though O'Brien still seems more boy than man on the release of his third album, Justuss, named after his two-year-old daughter. He recorded it in Toronto and Jamaica with some of the island's top producers.
He still wears the uniform of hip-hop youth -- dropped-crotch jeans, a designer Tommy Hilfiger sweatshirt and white ball cap. A gold chain dangles from his neck with the word Snow encrusted with tiny diamonds.
But like his music, which has shown some maturity and stylistic diversity, O'Brien says he's grown.
"It's about time, don't you think?" he says and laughs, twirling one of his chunky gold rings around the end of his finger.
His last scrape with the law was two years ago after he was charged wih assault and uttering death threats in an incident involving two men at a downtown cafe.
Since then he's quit drinking and has started taking responsibility for his life and career.
"It wasn't a problem, it was just that any time I usually drink I used to get hot-headed or whatever, so I gave that up. I have a family now," he says.
"Before I was taking everything for granted," he continues. "I just wanted to do the music; I didn't know that this was a job. You want to become this, you've got to work."
He pauses for a moment.
"Because I can't do nothing else. It's only music."
He'll have to work hard to make a lasting mark in music. His last album, 1995's Murder Love, sold 30,000 copies in Canada, a respectable figure but nowhere near the 200,000 of his name-making debut.
For some reason the album did better in Japan, where it sold 400,000 copies.
O'Brien has an additional credibility hurdle because he's a white man making what is considered black man's music.
"I think people respect the exposure internationally that he's given to the music," says Denise Jones, who runs a talent agency and is chairwoman of the Juno Reggae Advisory Committee.
"But I suppose there is still resentment that one of our own people, meaning someone of African heritage, was not able to do the same thing that he did as quickly as he has."