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Boogie Down Productions
Rhythms, Rhymes, & Other Theories
Breath
of Life Music
Commentary by Mtume ya Salaam
& Kalamu ya
Salaam
A couple weeks ago,
I said
hip-hop was all about beats and rhymes.
Kalamu responded,
in part, that the type of hip-hop I was talking
about—the kind that’s all about hard beats and hard
rhymes—died out back in the late Eighties. He thought I
was talking about cats like L.L. Cool J and Run-D.M.C.
In a way I was, but then again, I wasn’t. He also said
my comments were more about my personal beliefs about
what hip-hop ‘should’ be, rather than a definition of
what hip-hop actually is. The fact is, I wasn’t talking
about my personal beliefs at all. The comments I made
about the emphasis of lyrics and beats over everything
else are the same ones that you’ll find in just about
any serious article or book about hip-hop. It is the
accepted definition of the essence of this genre of
music.
The truth is, all good hip-hop is about the beats and
the rhymes first. Not just the kind of hip-hop I like,
but all of it. That’s what makes hip-hop hip-hop. In the
same way that you might say jazz is all about swing and
improvisation, hip-hop is all about beats and rhymes.
That doesn’t mean jazz isn’t also about composition,
harmonic development and the group dynamic. And that
doesn’t mean hip-hop isn’t also about storytelling,
social commentary or cutting it up on the ones and twos.
By making the comment I did, I wasn’t fetishizing a
particular era of hip-hop. I was simply pointing out the
essential difference between the genre of music we call
hip-hop and every other genre of music. Similarly, I
remember reading this book about jazz where the author
attempting to define what jazz is. He eventually said
that he couldn’t actually define jazz, but he did know
this: not all jazz swings and not all jazz is
improvised, but if it doesn’t swing and there’s
no improvisation, then it isn’t jazz. That same phrasing
is applicable to hip-hop. Not all hip-hop has hard beats
and not all hip-hop has vocals at all, let alone hard,
rhythmic vocals. But, if it doesn’t have a beat that
knocks and the MC isn’t rhyming to the beat, then
I’m sorry, you can keep on calling it whatever you want,
but it just isn’t hip-hop.
*
* * * *
In this post, I’m
going to take you on a little tour. But keep in mind,
it’s just an overview. If I could take you back with me
to New Orleans for a couple of days, I could show you
some of the highlights of the city, and I could show you
some of the hip places that the tourists don’t go. You’d
leave with a much better understanding of New Orleans
than before you came, but you still wouldn’t know the
city the way you would if you lived there for a year or
two, let alone a lifetime. In the same way, we’re going
to spend a couple of moments together touring a place we
call ‘Great MCs of Hip-Hop.’ Throughout the tour, I’m
going to point out examples of what I mean when I talk
about ‘beats and rhymes.’ And I’ll try to give y’all an
idea of what hip-hop fans are hearing when they listen
to the music.
Nas – “Get Down” from
God’s Son
(Columbia/Sony, 2002)
I’ve been listening to Nas rap for almost fifteen years
now, and to this day, when he’s flowing at his best, I
think the same thing – pure liquid. I won’t say Nas is
the best M.C. of all-time, but I do think he has the
best flow of anyone who ever touched a mic. He’s so
clean, so precise, so smooth. Even his mistakes are
elegant. Some MCs have particular rhyme patterns that
they use repeatedly. Nas, on the other hand, tends to
almost constantly shift patterns as he works his way
through his verses. Like Rakim, Nas also occasionally
raps straight through his end rhymes while
simultaneously over-emphasizing his internal rhymes. At
the end of a rhyming line, when you naturally expect a
pause, Nas keeps going. And when Nas uses an internal
rhyme, you just as naturally expect him to just flow on,
but it’s then that he pauses. All of this throws off
your ability to predict where his rhyme pattern is
going. You’re forced to just lay back and follow his
flow where it leads you.
Pay particular attention to the way this track begins.
Even before Nas starts rapping, you can hear him setting
up the vocal rhythm he’s about to drop. Those three
‘uh’s come just behind the ‘one’ beat (they’re spaced
four counts apart, right at the beginning), creating a
simple syncopation. And when Nas does come in rapping,
after one bar of letting the beat play, he comes in at
the exact same moment: just behind the one drop. It’s an
interesting moment (although almost certainly
unintentional) because it gives you an idea of what an
MC is doing when he’s rapping. His syllables are like
individual drum licks that he drops onto the primary
beat, creating these complex patterns of rhythmic sound.
Phrases are like drum patterns – memorize the words and
you can even drum along to the words instead of humming.
It’s not melody. It’s rhythm.
In any event, you don’t have to be a hip-hop fan to know
this is a James Brown beat, something that you’ll hear
over and over in classic hip-hop. In fact, Nas goes out
of his way to make sure you know, going so far as to
name the song after one of James’ most recognizable
catch phrases. The thing is, this was 2002, not 1987. By
the early Nineties, sampling J.B. had already become
outdated. By ’02 though, it’d become sufficiently
outdated that Nas bringing back those old beats was an
intentional statement that he was going back to a
classic style. You might even call this a ‘throwback’
beat. The acoustic guitar loop keeps the groove mellow,
but the throbbing bass and hard snare is where the heart
of the record is. If you listen closely, you’ll hear
that Nas is always conscious of where that snare drops.
If he has a word he really wants the listener to catch,
he plays it off of the dominant rhythmic element of the
track, that being the snare.
GZA/Genius
featuring Killah Priest – “Beneath The Surface” from
Beneath the Surface
(MCA, 1999)
The dominant
element of this track is the strings. Every four counts,
the strings are looped; every couple of bars, the string
loop is extended to a crescendo. Given the dominance of
the strings, you’d think “Beneath The Surface”
might be an exception to the ‘beats and rhymes’ style of
hip-hop, but not so, because the other significant
element of this beat is, of course, the drum track. Like
almost all hip-hop tracks, the bass drum and snare drum
are mixed loud and up front, giving you the head-nodding
4/4 effect for which rap music is known. And the rapper,
whether you call him Genius or GZA (pronounced ‘jizz-uh’),
is one of the most rhythmic MCs around.
GZA is a highly precise rapper, even moreso than Nas,
although he doesn’t flow nearly as smoothly. Then again,
GZA’s style doesn’t depend on a smooth flow, so the
comparison isn’t necessarily a fair one. In fact, GZA
consistently breaks up his own flow in order to draw
attention to not only phrases or rhymes, but also to
individual words. (“I swing [pause] on you fake [pause]
radio personalities.”) I’m convinced that GZA is
obsessed with the way words sound – the sound pattern of
a particular word seems as important to him as what that
word might actually mean. He’s also one of the few MCs
to consistently use adverbs (“Swarming unpredictably,”
“Increase the force significantly,” “practically
marred,” etc.), which lends his verses a conversational,
almost instructive feel.
There is an exception here, and it’s the use of metaphor
instead of simile. At the beginning of his verse, GZA
talks about “a man-made lake” covered by “a sheet of
thin ice where unskilled skaters cut figures eights
twice.” The sibilance is beautiful: even if you don’t
know what ‘sibilance’ means, it’s fun to repeat
something like “unskilled skaters cut,” because of the
way GZA makes three syllables in a row start with the
same ‘sk’ sound. But the metaphor is just as beautiful.
GZA isn’t really talking about ice or skaters. The lake
is hip-hop. The thin ice is the rhyme page. The skaters,
unskilled as they are, are unworthy MCs. And the ‘figure
eights twice’ represents 16 bars, the (somewhat)
standard length of an MC’s verse.
Rakim – “The 18th Letter (Always And Forever)” from
The 18th Letter (MCA/Universal, 1997)
In terms of the structure of the beat, this track is a
virtual twin of the GZA’s “Beneath The Surface.”
Here again is the dominant string sample that lasts one
brief four-count, only extending to eight counts every
other bar. Here also is the throbbing 4/4 drum beat with
the snares rolled off to deemphasize the individual drum
licks and instead give the listener an overall soothing
feeling. Again, though this record depends on a melodic
sample for its overall effect, there is no attempt to
build on the melody – there is nothing to ‘sing along’
to. Instead, the melodic sound is a signifier of
smoothness, mellowness and sophistication.
The use of the very recognizably (perhaps even
stereotypically) melodic sample serves to establish a
certain mood. That mood is one of calm, disciplined
reflection, something that Rakim is a master at
conveying. This record was the title track of Rakim’s
first comeback album, his first album without his
long-time partner Eric B. I remember the album being
generally considered a bit of a let-down, but I
disagreed. I was fascinated by every word. Echoing the
sibilant style used by GZA, Rakim talked about how he
was trained to MC, while lesser rappers “strained to
sling slang.”
Rakim was always a master of imagery and here he
continues that legacy, talking about how he “split seas
for Moses” and “made waves for Noah.” Then he takes it
from the Biblical realm to the outerstellar, claiming
that “some of [his] rhyme patterns still surround
Saturn.” And when Rakim boasts, “I roam through
battlezones with chrome for chaperone,” he could be
talking about ghetto streets and pistols or, just as
easily, rhyme ciphers and microphones. It’s this sort of
verbal facility and memorable imagery that pushed Rakim
to the top of the list of all-time greats. And, of
course, you can’t forget that powerful flow. Rakim’s
flow combines the smoothness of Nas, the vocal command
of GZA and the relentlessness of Melle Mel. He’s an MC
without a weakness, and with apologies to L.L. Cool J,
the true G.O.A.T., Greatest Of All Time.
Grandmaster Flash & The Furious Five featuring Melle Mel
– “Pump Me Up” from
More of the Best (Rhino,
1996) (Originally released in 1985 as a 12" single on
the Sugarhill label.)
Even though this is
just a quick overview, nothing definitive, I wouldn’t
have felt right without including at least one
representative of the true Old School. (And I say that
because I’ve seen references to artists as recent as
Wu-Tang Clan being called Old School. That’s just
silly.) Melle Mel was there at the very beginning. Some
even say that Mel was the first MC to rap to the beat,
that is, the first to go from repeating random,
non-rhythmic phrases to actually reciting extended
vocals to the rhythm of the accompanying music. I don’t
know if that’s true or isn’t and honestly, I don’t think
it’s possible to know. Suffice it to say, Mel was at
least one of the first. He’s also a monster of an MC,
even by today’s standards.
This track dates back to 1985, but the quasi go-go beat
could still work today. It’s hype, but smooth, with the
predominant sound being the non-stop tom-toms. That
sound is a good audible metaphor for Melle Mel’s style
of MCing – he’s not as tricky or scientific as later
rappers, it’s just that he never, ever stops rapping.
The biggest difference between Mel’s style and the more
modern styles of MCs like Rakim, GZA or Nas is in the
smoothness of the delivery and style of rhyming. Mel’s
lyrics aren’t as technically complex as his successors
and, partially for that reason, his words are much
easier to understand. Mel comes from an era when almost
all lyrics were recited live, not in the studio. The
crowd could be distracted, high, dancing or oblivious.
It was the MC’s job to not only attract the audience’s
attention, but also to hold it. A lot of Mel’s skills –
things like his authoritative voice, excellent breath
control, percussive delivery and clear diction – are
rendered less important once in the studio as opposed to
live at a club or in a park.
Melle Mel’s most significant strengths though were his
relentless flow and his story rhymes (a development in
MCing that he is said to have invented himself), and
even on wax, both survive intact. Listening to Mel spit
his park-hardened battle rhymes, you feel sorry for any
MC that might fool himself into thinking he could step
to Mel. The ‘biting shark’ routine is a good example.
Melle Mel talks about a shark named Jaws who “was biting
my rhymes like y’all bite yours.” With each stolen
rhyme, it seems, the shark grew bigger and bigger. But
as the rhyme goes, Mel kept writing new raps until
finally the shark ate so many of them, that the shark
got sick, exploded, and was blown back to the sea, and,
as Mel says, “The whole universe knew the king was me.”
Boogie Down Productions – “My Philosophy” from
By All Means Necessary (Jive, 1990)
In recent years,
K.R.S. has done a lot to cause hip-hop fans to question
not only his musical legacy but his sanity as well, but
drop one of his classic records like “My Philosophy” and
all debate has to cease. More than any other MC, K.R.S.
is the rapper who took his work most seriously as an
art-form. A self-educated man who spent part of his
teenage years living on the streets, K.R.S. regards
knowledge and learning as the supreme goals of an
evolved individual. Of course, that philosophy of his is
tempered by his quick temper and brutal about-faces,
those the result of the education he received not in the
libraries where he spent many of his days reading
history and philosophy tomes, but on the streets, where
he was simply trying to stay alive.
“My Philosophy,” the lead single from BDP’s second
album, is anchored by a long, bluesy sax line. But like
the string samples we’ve previously discussed, the
melodic sample is merely a foil, lending the buoyant,
hyperactive beat a slightly smoother feel than it would
otherwise have. The sample, like the Malcolm-inspired
cover art, is also intended to impart a vibe of
seriousness or intelligence. In 1988, jazz samples in
hip-hop were unusual, therefore, the sound of a jazzy
saxophone would communicate something other than, “Hey,
check out this cool sample.” In this case, it probably
means, “I’m about to drop some high-level thinking on
you.”
In terms of his style, K.R.S. is probably the most
percussive MC since Melle Mel. He raps in hard bursts of
rhythm, creating rhyme patterns out of whole chunks of
words. He’s less concerned with the way individual words
or syllables sound (like the GZA) or with how seamless
or smooth his flow is (like Nas or Rakim) and more
concerned with the power of his delivery and the sound
of whole phrases. K.R.S. is also a brilliant wordsmith.
By defining and redefining his own words, he constantly
gives the listener knew ways to think about words and
concepts. On the subject of the then-burgeoning
pro-Black movement in hip-hop: “I’m not white or red or
black, I’m brown.” On rappers selling out: “The way some
act in rap is kind of wack and it lacks creativity and
intelligence / But they don’t care, ‘cause their
company’s selling it.” On health: “[I’m a] vegetarian /
No goat or ham or chicken or hamburger / ‘Cause to me,
that’s suicide – self-murder.” For me, “My Philosophy”
was aptly named, because listening to K.R.S. rap was
like listening to a philosopher philosophize. Of course
suicide is ‘self-murder,’ but had I ever thought about
it in quite that way? Probably not.
*
* * * *
For the uninitiated, I hope this brief overview of
classic hip-hop tracks, styles and MCs helps to
illustrate how and why hip-hop is rhythm-focused music.
For the rest of us, it’ll be nothing more than a nice
trip down memory lane. These tracks span nearly twenty
years and at least three distinct eras. The elemental
nature of beats and rhymes in hip-hop has nothing to do
with a particular style, era or preference. It’s simply
the essence of the manner in which the music is created
and enjoyed.
A couple of notes though. If you’re into hip-hop, you’ll
notice that all of these MCs are from New York, the
birthplace of the music. I’ll be back next week with a
batch of very different hip-hop tracks, these from
places South and West of NYC. Again, I’ll be pointing
out the emphasis on beats and rhymes and attempting to
show how and why that emphasis is central to the music.
However, I’ll also point out how MCs from other areas of
the country tend to create hip-hop that is less ‘pure’
in style. (Although I see that as neither a plus nor a
minus – just a difference.) A second thing that you may
have noticed is that all of these tracks—to one extent
or another—include elements of smoothness or melodicism.
I did that intentionally in order to show some of the
ways that hip-hop uses melody as a spice, signifier or
additive, but almost never as a central theme.
—Mtume ya Salaam
*
* * * *
I Heard That
I took notes. Maybe I’ll get a “C” on the exam, that
is, as long as they got some old skool questions. Rakim
is, of course, the pinnacle of lyrical wordsmithing. I
remember when Nas first hit the scene, I thought his
debut album was the bomb; really like his narrative
drive—how Nas could tell a story in rhyme but I have not
been so impressed by his subsequent material. In
accessing the body of Nas’ work I hear a rapper focusing
on material way below his abilities, not to mention his
potential. GZA flies below my radar, even after checking
this track, I’m not compelled to want to hear more. KRS
is both a philosopher and a fool, sometimes both at once
but still there’s no doubt he was the most serious
rapper ever—remember his lecture tour? And, of course,
"Mr. Don’t Push Me" Melle Mel was the first rapper I
consciously listened to, moreover, I’m convinced that
Melle Mel is the stylistic model for megaphone thorat
himself, Chuck D. Mtume, you’ve dropped a brief but
brilliant overview.
Now check “Homesick” (from
Holy Terror) by the Last Poets (this particular
version of the Poets is Umar and Abiodun). "Homesick"
features Umar and guest artist Melle Mel. This is the
track I use to help my peers hear the difference between
what is popularly called spoken word and rap.
Umar is up first and then Melle Mel follows and they
alternate verses. No sooner Mel starts you can tell he’s
doing something completely different from Umar.
Looking forward to next week. Hopefully, I can graduate.
Anyway, I’m listening, taking notes and learning a whole
lot.
—Kalamu ya Salaam
* * * *
*
Devin The
Dude / “What A Job”
The two artists
Kalamu specifically mentioned as being not
representative of my definition of hip-hop were A
Tribe Called Quest and Digable Planets. The
irony is, the albums I wrote about from those groups—ATCQ’s
Instinctive Travels and Digable Planets’
Blowout Comb—are two of the most rhythm-focused
albums in the history of the music. Neither album ever
had a chance to cross over to the mainstream pop
audience precisely because they are too beat-oriented.
If you think about it, the two albums have a quite
similar drum sound: muted, very thick and full,
syncopated, highly repetitive. And the MCs, as well, are
very rhythmic. There’s virtually none of the sing-song-ish
MCing you’ll hear a lot of if you turn on the radio
today. It’s dense lyricism — straight MCing.
So if all of this is true, why are these albums seen as
something other (or something ‘more’…whatever that’s
supposed to mean) than hardcore hip-hop? I think it’s
because both groups also excel at using jazzy and/or
soulful samples to augment their beats and rhymes. The
rhythms may be the bones, the structure, the essence of
both ATCQ and the DPs, but the jazzy hooks are what a
lot of people remember (particularly more casual fans of
hip-hop). To understand what I mean, listen to some DPs
or ATCQ and instead of listening to the song as a whole,
focus in on just those jazzy samples. What you’ll hear
are loops, and often, those loops will last only a few
seconds each. The melodies are never developed. Contrast
that with the way the rhythms are treated. Every
syllable uttered by the MCs are like a counter-rhythm
that interacts with the main drum track. And those drum
tracks are always very upfront and forceful. They are
impossible to miss. They are the essence of the music.
I could make similar points about just about every
hip-hop group I’ve ever posted. M.C. Lyte, the
Roots, Public Enemy, Grandmaster Flash,
Boogie Down Productions, etc. I’ve talked about
all of these artists on
Breath
of Life, and all of them are highly focused on beats and
rhymes. (And this goes double for Public Enemy!
P.E. is probably the most complex and serious
rhythm-focused group in the history of electronic-based
music. I’m amazed that Kalamu could hear P.E.’s music as
being about something other than beats and rhymes. When
it comes to beats and rhymes, P.E. (re)wrote the book.)
If you look back at the hip-hop artists Kalamu’s posted
vs. the ones I’ve posted, the biggest difference you’ll
see is that Kalamu tends to post music from artists with
one foot in hip-hop (usually vocally) and the other foot
in a different style of music. Meaning, the hip-hop
artists Kalamu usually posts feature musical
accompaniment that is focused more on melody and harmony
than rhythm. Either that, or the artists use vocal
styles that are closer to spoken word or singing than
actual MCing. Note that I’m not saying there’s anything
wrong with these types of artists. It’s just not usually
to my taste, because when it comes to hip-hop, I like
mine straight with no chaser.
You can probably see this divide more clearly if you
think about some of the jazz tracks I’ve posted. I enjoy
jazz, but I’m certainly no jazzhead. I dig stuff like
Lonnie Liston Smith, Bobbi Humphrey and Lou Donaldson
just as much as I dig ‘Trane or Miles. To a hardcore
jazz fan, that’s sacrilege. Intellectually, I can
understand that swing and improvisation (two things that
Lonnie, Bobbi and Lou don’t do much of) are essential to
jazz, but I don’t feel the importance, the
centrality, of it. If I hear a catchy jazz tune that
barely swings and has only basic improvisation, I may
well like it anyway while Kalamu will almost certainly
dislike it. In the same way, I almost never dig a
hip-hop track that doesn’t have either hard beats, hard
rhymes or both.
*
* * * *
All of that said,
Kalamu was right about one thing. I do carefully pick
what type of hip-hop I post here
Breath
of Life. I know that many of our listeners are fans of
R&B or jazz first, so I try to focus on hip-hop that may
be palatable to non-fans. Most of this comes down to
lyrical content. I try to focus on hip-hop with
generally agreeable (or indecipherable) subject matter.
Hip-hop isn’t what it used to be, but there are still a
lot of beautiful sounds out there. You just have to know
where to look and you have to know what you’re listening
to. I talked about all of this with Kalamu, and he told
me, “Son, do what you want. If people don’t like it,
they don’t like it. That’s what the skip button is for.”
So let’s do it. Here are some of my favorite hip-hop
tracks of the last year or so, in no particular order
and without the intention of doing anything
comprehensive. It’s just a few rap records that have
ended up with a high play-count on my iTunes and iPod.
One more thing. There’s this school of thought that sees
current mainstream hip-hop as having broken with
tradition because hip-hop was originally very positive,
socially conscious and even political. That’s a load of
crap. Hip-hop was originally about how great you and
your crew and your DJ were; and about how paid you were
(even though you were most likely dead-broke); and about
how many women you were pulling (even though you were
most likely 19 years old and still living in the
projects with your Mama). The positivity came from the
fact that hip-hop was an outlet for creativity and
artistic expression. It gave young people something to
do besides hanging on the streets, getting into trouble.
So anyhow, let’s start with the South, ‘cause that’s
where I’m from and because that’s where the MCs maintain
the most sense of the original fun of hip-hop: just
getting on the mic and talking big shit. From there,
we’ll move on to a couple of tracks from international
artists, and we’ll close out with two tracks from MCs
who were at the height of their popularity during rap’s
Golden Age, but who are still recording some twenty
years later.
UGK – “The Game Belongs To Me” from
UGK: Underground Kingz
(Jive - 2007)
UGK has been around since before God made dirt. In fact,
to hear Bun B and Pimp C tell it, they’re probably the
ones who helped God spread that dirt all over Port
Arthur, Texas, which, in case you were wondering, is the
“P.A.T.” they’re always referring to. Since 1987 and
until the day they finally hang up their mics, Bun and C
have had only one subject and that’s street hustling.
What’s kept me listening all these years is Pimp C’s
hilariously over-the-top Texas drawl and Bun B’s dark
molasses flow. They’re also two very funny individuals –
check the chorus. (If you need help: ‘Bobby’ is weed,
‘Whitney’ is crack and ‘Screw’ is codeine syrup.)
Devin is a cat out
of Houston who’s been operating just outside of the
mainstream for more than a decade. Aside from his
obsession with weed, Devin is virtually the opposite of
Pimp C and Bun B. They’re big, loud and brash. He’s
terminally laidback and self-avowedly ‘average.’ This
track — in which Devin breaks down the behind-the-scenes
mechanics of rap non-superstardom — is a good example of
Devin’s style. It’s also notable for containing one of
the most touching verses I’ve heard in a long time. It’s
guest rapper Andre 3000 explaining why he raps not for
fortune or fame but for “that boy who graduated” and
“his baby mama Kee-Kee.” I’m feeling that.
La Mala Rodríguez - "Lo Fácil Cae
Ligero" from
Alevosia
(Universal Latino - 2003)
After all my talk about how I only like it hardcore,
here’s a crossover track that I can’t get enough. This
young lady is an MC from Spain with a very
interesting background. Her vocal technique
is interesting too, mixing the lazy-tongued style of a
T.I. or 50 Cent with something that reminds me of the
stop-and-start feel of Ladybug from the Digable Planets.
The track sounds like something Dr. Dre might’ve done
back in 1990, including the wah-wah guitar, which was
probably recorded live. (Dre used to do a lot of that
too.) Of course, I haven’t a clue as to what La Mala
(which means, ‘The Bad Girl,” I think) is rapping about,
but that hasn’t stopped me from listening to this song
something like eleventy-billion times.
Tolcha featuring Rider Shafique and
RQM – “Rising Tides” from
Testalt (Meta Polyp - 2006).
I know virtually nothing about these cats except that
the production crew is from Berlin and the MCs are from
the UK and Germany, respectively, but I dig their track
because of how they’re mixing two of my favorite styles
of beat-driven music: reggae dub and hip-hop MCing.
Usually, mixes like this compromise one or the other
element. Either it’s a good dub with weak MCing, or it’s
real MCing over a fake-sounding dub. In this case, the
dub is good enough to stand on its own, and the MCing,
while not great, is good enough to hold its own with
those pulsing bass drops. Like one of the MCs says, “I
got this need to speak over drums.” I hear that.
After sixteen
albums, I find it amazing that Too Short is still
around. At one time in the late Eighties and early
Nineties, I picked up every new Too Short album the
moment it dropped. I won’t lie and say there’s any
reason to still do that now, but on occasion, Short does
still come up with something worth hearing. Like Bun B,
Short excels at locking into the groove and just keeping
it there. His flow never changes and he never gets
complicated, but for Too Short fans like me, listening
to him is like going back home. Comfortable.
M.C. Lyte –
“The Wonder Years” from Promo Only (2006)
My girl, Lyte. The original hard-rhyming female MC.
Before her (and truthfully, after her as well), most
women who rapped didn’t attempt to compete directly with
male MCs. But Lyte never backed down from anyone. Over
the years, Lyte’s style has mellowed a lot. She’s not
the young firebrand she was twenty years ago, but then,
who is? What she’s lost in intensity, she’s gained in
maturity, dropping lines like, “Some of us need to be
doing a bid / Spitting lyrics that’s worse than Ritalin
for kids.” Speak on it, Lyte. … And yes, folks, Premier
is on the break.
—Mtume ya Salaam
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I Have
a Theory
Back in the day
there was a big, big, ugly, vicious split within the
Black Panther Party between founder Huey Newton and the
charismatic Minister of Information, Eldridge Cleaver.
Cleaver was a strong advocate of the lumpen
proletariat—the street folk, the under-employed and
unemployed, folks who survived on the hustle.
What the lumpen had in spades was “heart” and “soul.”
They had no desire whatsoever to conform to mainstream
values. Sort of a permanent opposition to the status
quo. And they had the courage and cojones to live their
convictions. Plus, there was an unquenchable
get-it-while-(& when)-you-can approach to life.
In a similar way,
our popular music bumps with the hardest joy of any
music in the world today. Regardless of the overt
message, there is an interior message of enjoying
life—it’s in the beat. The hard hooks. The hummable
melodies or the witty phrases you can’t help repeating.
That’s the upside. The downside is amorality, violence
and a cold-hearted all-for-me/fuck-everybody-else
attitude.
A lot of what passes for keeping it real today is really
keeping it lumpen. Hence, the ascendancy of what has
been called gangsta rap and bling, bling. My theory is
that the lumpen mentality is actually nothing but street
level capitalism, hence all the emphasis on getting
paid, getting laid, getting, getting… consumerism at its
most primal, pleasure principle level.
The lumpen hierarchy is simple: the powerful on top, the
strong just below, and everybody else underfoot. A major
corollary to the lumpen hierarchy is an embrace of
patriarchal power and privilege, which necessarily
includes the demeaning and dominating of women.
All of this operates within a dominate system that is
capitalist to the core and sexist through and through.
In effect, the street merely reflects the larger
society.
That’s where I think a lot of popular rap is coming
from. Although I’m no Christian, the Bible has pointedly
pinpointed one of the major questions facing us today:
what does it profit to gain the world and lose our
souls?
The main message of popular culture (and I don’t just
mean rap) is that profit is more important than
principles or, more accurately, profit is the highest
principle.
The Honorable Elijah Muhammad famously preached that we
are what we eat. I believe that’s true not just on the
physical level but also on the cultural level… I’m sure
you can see where this viewpoint is headed.
Mtume, I believe some of the music you’ve selected for
the contemporary category has minimal nutritional value.
One of the arguments I frequently hear in response to my
position is that everything doesn’t have to be
politically correct, can’t it just be fun.
Is fun by definition backward and “incorrect”? I don’t
think so. I think you can have fun without advocating
fucking over (profiting off) others. The problem is that
we are at a social crisis crossroads. The quality of
life in general is diminished and/or deformed. We turn
to consumerism to satiate our hungry souls but “things”
can’t and don’t replace the nourishment of positive
social relationships.
These songs exemplify lumpen strengths and weaknesses.
But you know what—and here is where the issue gets
really, really complex. I prefer to struggle with the
lumpen than join the status quo.
I am against censorship and against the majority of the
self-serving capitalist laws on the books today used to
legalize and justify our continued exploitation and
oppression. At the same time I know that no society can
continue to exist without laws or social norms to
regulate behavior and one of the main functions of
culture is to teach and reinforce social beliefs and
behavior.
What may simply seem like entertainment, i.e. "fun," is
actually an advocacy of specific viewpoints. For
example, running all through the selected contemporary
songs is an emphasis on marijuana use (whether as a
product to sell or a drug to consume). I believe
marijuana ought to be decriminalized. I believe America
is one big drug culture and drug dependency and abuse
ought to be directly addressed at the consumer level.
Freddy’s dead. Getting high is a crutch to enable the
individual to put up with modern life and does little to
encourage individuals to get together and change the
negative conditions.
What I would like to see is music that consciously
opposes the status quo and not simply revels in outlaw
behavior and living large-ism.
I think MC Lyte is obviously headed in a direction I dig
but she’s no longer at the epicenter of rap culture. Nor
for that matter is Lupe Fiasco a major mover, but he is
a young rapper on the rise and I believe his work ought
to be encouraged.
Lupe Fiasco’s “Coulda Been” is a track I like a
lot. He catalogues life possibilities for most of
today’s lumpen and working class youth. It’s an
unsentimental portrait that even includes beautiful
references to suicide and to mental illness, not that
either condition is beautiful in itself but the way Lupe
describes the situations is extremely artful. No, "Coulda
Been" is not overtly revolutionary, but in this era it’s
a strong, leftward blowing wind that pushes us to think
critically about who we are and what our conditions are.
Mtume, I think you are wrong in thinking that the early
rap was just about having fun. It was about having fun
in spite of and despite everyday oppression and
exploitation, despite miseducation and no education,
despite the lack of social services such as cultural
centers and youth programs, despite war (Vietnam) and
despite economic hard times.
One of the hallmarks of black culture is that we have
always found a way to squeeze drops of joy out of tons
of sorrow. Not only have we sung in a strange land, we
have made the world join in our song. I think we just
need to be clear about the strengths (and weaknesses) of
our musical culture and our people.
After all we don’t have to be who this society shapes us
to be. We can be something else, something beautiful,
something upful, full of life, righteous and wonderful.
If we are willing to fight for it, we could be healthy
and happy human beings. Our popular music can advocate
change, urge us to keep on keeping on, to move on up a
little higher. Historically, that’s just what our music
has done and that’s the kind of popular music we need
today.
—Kalamu ya Salaam
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posted 14 August 2007 * *
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updated 5 November 2007 |
