Saturday, June 8, 2013

Living Legend or Urban Myth? The Concept of "Real Hip-Hop"


(First things first: I must give credit where it's due to my unofficial contributor for this particular post, Mrs. Scribbler.  Many of the issues that I plan on tackling in this potentially-controversial post are the end results of a conversation that she and I had on this topic recently, and for that, I say "thank you beeb" :-)!  Now, let's start the show...)

When I did a Google search for "real hip-hop", the image above was the first that popped up, including several variations of it further down the page.  The next image featured 2Pac, The Notorious B.I.G. and Run-D.M.C. in the center with other hip-hop legends like LL Cool J, Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre, Rakim, Ice Cube, Jay-Z, Nas, KRS-One, Public Enemy and a host of others on the outskirts.  Conversely, the sixth image in the search showed a picture saying "THIS ISN'T HIP-HOP" with an "X" through pictures of artists like Lil' Wayne, Drake, Big Sean, Rick Ross, Wale, Wiz Khalifa, J. Cole, Nicki Minaj and even Busta Rhymes--whose face ironically appeared on the aforementioned collage with the hip-hop legends.  I also saw images of graffiti, DJing, breaking, boomboxes, cassette tapes, microphones, headphones, and all of the typical associations with "real" hip-hop.  However, I write this post because I have become perplexed and somewhat annoyed by the notions of "real hip-hop" or "real hip-hop is not on the radio"--concepts that I believe are nothing more than "urban myths".


Let's knock the main term down a few pegs.  Many of us hip-hop lovers have been guilty of hearing, for example, an artist talking about how much hip-hop means to them over a DJ Premier-esque beat.  Many of us have responded by saying,  "Now that's real hip-hop right there"--present self-proclaimed blogger extraordinaire included.  However, I have done my best to stop saying this due to the following realization: "real" is a relative term.  As much as I love it, the boom-bap style of rap never has and never will appeal to every hip-hop and/or rap fan because everything ain't for everybody.  In what might be the shocker of the century for some folks, everybody isn't into freestyle battles, scratching competitions, graffiti that covers subway cars and brick walls and the like, and that's their prerogative.  Some people gravitate toward dirty drums with crate-digger-worthy soul samples while others like 808s, synthesizers, and the "overproduced" sound.  Some people dig the super-lyrical, "words I manifest" type of spitters while others find more in common with rappers that cater to the club crowd and socialites.  As a hip-hop lover, I appreciate each of these extremes and everything in between because so many different artists can speak my language--although our paths may be significantly different.  Unfortunately, not every hip-hop "fan" thinks like me because many fans are closed-minded, one-dimensional and "exclusive" with their listening tastes---and that includes the hip-hop "purists".  If everything sounded or looked formulaic no matter which way you slice it, then hip-hop would be extremely boring and would've never grown beyond the Bronx into a worldwide phenomenon and a highly lucrative genre of music.

That brings me to one of the major issues that I have with the term "real hip-hop": it's someone trying to tell another person how to think, look, feel and act--whether it's the artist or the listener.  In an interview almost two decades ago, Biggie said the following statement that was nearly more poignant than any rhyme that he's ever written (and that's saying a lot considering his unforgettable contribution to the game):
I make music about what I know. If I'd worked at McDonald's, I would've made rhymes about Big Macs and fries and stuff like that. In Brooklyn, I see hustling, I see killing, I see girls, I see cars — that's what I rap about, what's in my environment. Everything I did on the album was all about me. Me and Brooklyn. My Brooklyn representees know that. All that everyday struggle, waking up, check-cashing place, it's 9 o'clock in the morning, that's all Brooklyn, baby. That's all real. As far as somebody else not liking it, it's on them, man. I got love from the peeps, it's all good. I look at myself as the eyes of the world. At the same time, I know what people want to hear and that's not all I rhyme about. If it's one thing I heard about Ready to Die, it's that it's a full, rounded album. I got songs for the girls, I got songs for the thugs, I got songs for the radio. I try to put a little bit of everything into everything. I'm not a one-sided person.
Ladies and gents, that's real hip-hop: making art that represents the multifaceted layers of who you are and what you've experienced.  Many "old heads" in 1994 thought Biggie was a joke and wasn't "real hip-hop".  However, as a teenager at the time, he was very real to me because I knew his struggle to a degree.  His mother was a single mother that went from check-to-check to provide for her household...so was mine for most of our childhood.  He struggled with, and in many ways overcame, self-esteem issues...so did I.  He saw hustling, killing, girls and cars...so did I.  The only differences are 1) he chose a different path before hip-hop became his outlet and primary source of income and 2) he decided to put his experiences on wax and be unapologetic about it.  Between the older generations criticizing him and taking shots from fellow New Yorkers like the majority of the Wu-Tang Clan sans Method Man, Biggie refused to switch up his script for anyone because it was his truth and the truth of the people and neighborhoods that he represented.  Unless you were a hardcore, biased West Coast rider at the time, it was hard not to cheer for "Big Poppa".

However, many of us that loved and defended the Biggies and Tupacs of the world are doing the same thing that was done to us: trying to tell today's generation that Lil' Wayne and Drake aren't "real hip-hop", aren't "hip-hop enough" or aren't hip-hop at all.  Is either artist in my personal top 10 or on a consensus top 10 list of all time?  Nope.  However, I respect their hustle nonetheless.  Lil' Wayne went from rapping about hustling--though many people feel like he never did even a tenth of what he claimed, but it's still what he saw--to talking about his real life involving money, cars, women and all sorts of debaucherous behavior.  Drake went from being Jimmy Brooks aka "Wheelchair Jimmy" on Degrassi: The Next Generation to rapping about his real insecurities regarding fame and falling for women (primarily strippers) that only want him for his money while popularizing the "no new friends, where your real friends at" mentality.  Whether you like, love or hate the approaches or the messages behind their music, that's real life for them.  I get it: Drake and Wayne aren't obviously paying homage to the culture's legacy like some emcees.  Neither of them "drop knowledge" on a regular basis.  No one is expecting Drake to be Royce Da 5'9" or Lil' Wayne to be Joell Ortiz, and IMHO, just those two Slaughterhouse members would murder the entire Young Money roster in a freestyle battle.  Heck, there's been rumors floating around forever about Lil' Wayne having ghostwriters, and I've even heard rumblings about Drake needing behind-the-scenes help, too.  However, that doesn't make the YMCMB spitters any more or less hip-hop; it just makes them a different breed of representatives for the overall culture that simply capitalize from their popularity.

If the issue is that "real hip-hop is not on the radio", then doesn't that bring into question the validity behind the legend of so many heralded emcees?  Would someone dare declare that Eric B. & Rakim aren't real hip-hop because "I Know You Got Soul" or "Paid In Full" got airplay?  Is someone brave enough to claim that pioneers like Run-DMC aren't real hip-hop because "It's Tricky" or "King of Rock" were huge hits?  Can Doug E. Fresh & Slick Rick be discredited from being considered real hip-hop because of "The Show" or "La Di Da Di"?  Is it disputable that Public Enemy was real hip-hop because "Fight the Power" is not only one of the biggest hits of their career, but one of the songs that defined the beloved "golden age" of hip-hop and is attached to one of the most iconic Black films of the 1980s in Do the Right Thing?  Will someone be audacious enough to claim that A Tribe Called Quest is not real hip-hop because of "Check the Rhime", "Bonita Applebum", "Award Tour" or "Electric Relaxation"?  Is Wu-Tang Clan disqualified from being real hip-hop when "C.R.E.A.M." and "Method Man" dominated the airwaves in its time?  My point is this: when every last one of these acts are easily on "greatest ever" lists and are all a part of hip-hop's "golden age", saying that "real hip-hop isn't on the radio" is just not factually correct because it was back then.  Now if you want to make the argument that there's not enough of a representative balance, then I'm with you and that's been my biggest issue for years.  At one point, A Tribe Called Quest was getting just as much love as Snoop Lion (back when he was still Snoop Doggy Dogg).  The difference between me and the hip-hop "purists" is that I don't have a problem with hearing somebody like Trinidad Jame$ or Future; I just want the radio to show more love to the Little Brothers and Black Milks of the world.  Give the listeners a variety of choices and allow them to decide for themselves instead of force-feeding them one facet of a deeply diverse culture.  However, that's still inherently different than saying that "real hip-hop is not on the radio" because that sounds less like an enlightened group of cultural experts and more like a bunch of sour grapes that are just mad because the type of hip-hop they want to hear isn't on mainstream radio.

With that said, there's different types of hip-hop for different situations.  I remember partying at my old pool hall spot in Virginia circa 2006, and the DJ played Lil' Scrappy's "Head Bussa" and "No Problem" back to back and the crowd went nuts--every one of us taking our cues from Lil' Jon and putting our hands and fists in the air.  (For the record, that's a very hip-hop cultural attribution for those that don't consider Lil' Scrappy, Lil' Jon or Trillville hip-hop.  It employs the call-and-response technique that permeates Black music in general.)  However, he played "Mr. Me Too" by the Clipse not long after that and immediately cleared the dance floor.  Then I was at a club in D.C. a few years ago when Waka Flocka Flame's "No Hands" featuring Wale & Roscoe Dash was in heavy rotation and you couldn't pay people to stay off the dance floor.  On the other hand, B.O.B. & Bruno Mars' "Nothin' On You" sent most people to the sidelines for a convenient bar break.  On the converse, if I want music with more diverse and deeper content, then Lil' Scrappy and Waka Flocka wouldn't be my first choices.  Bottom line, different artists and their songs serve different purposes.  Those moments in the club acting a fool with my friends or grinding on some chick with a Charmin-soft booty were as real to me as the first time hearing OutKast's Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik. A Tribe Called Quest's Midnight Marauders, Ice Cube's The Predator or Wu-Tang Clan's Enter the 36 Chambers.  It's all hip-hop and it's all real because they are connected to my real experiences in some way, shape or form.

Hip-hop "purists" and "elitists" have a lot of nerve telling other people that they're not hip-hop or their music isn't "real".  How soon we forget that when hip-hop first came out, the rest of the music world didn't want to acknowledge that hip-hop music was real music at all.  Aerosmith had trepidations about Run-D.M.C. doing a cover of their classic "Walk This Way" record because they didn't get hip-hop music at the time--and the Hollis Queens hip-hop trio had their own reservations.  However, once the legendary rockers got in the studio and saw the late, great Jam Master Jay in action cutting their record between two turntables, they were in total amazement and eventually buckled up for the groundbreaking, history-making ride.  You still have a lot of folks today that are 50+ that still refer to hip-hop as "that hippity-hop, be-bop stuff" or "noise"--no matter if it's Rick Ross or Common.  Hence, the culture and genre of music that we love and celebrate so much still doesn't get its full respect.  How soon we also forget that many of our favorite soul singers like Aretha Franklin and Al Green were once told that their music wasn't "real" either, but it was just termed differently: "secular".  If they weren't singing for the Lord, then they were singing for the enemy.  Many of those same people feel the same way about hip-hop music and have even gone so far as to say that Christian rap isn't "real" gospel music, has no place in the church and is merely trying to bring God's Word down to the level of people that just need to elevate themselves to the conventional methods.  By telling someone that their form of hip-hop isn't "real", you have just aligned yourself with those same dogmatic ways of thinking and are just as bad in attempting to control another person's journey in life as either an artist, musician or supporter.  Congratulations, tyrants.

Then there are other arguments that go along with the "real hip-hop is not on the radio" platform like rap music on the radio is too "commercial" or many of the artists on the radio don't talk enough about "the struggle".  Let's first tackle what always sounds like an insult in the term "commercial".  At the heart of that word is "commerce", which can be defined as "an interchange of goods or commodities" or "the whole system of an economy that constitutes an environment for business".  As expected, "commercial broadcasting" is directly associated with and largely based upon "profit".  While "the powers that be" and the general listening public control what's considered a "hot commodity", no emcee worth his or her salt can claim that he or she is not "commercial" unless everything he or she does is for free.  If that's the case, then that person is "hungry" in the worst sense of the word, is wasting studio time (and money unless they're on some kind of a barter system) and should never teach Music Business 101.  You'll have a whole bunch of rappers not feeding themselves and/or their families because they want to be real instead of realistic.  The moment that you charge for your single, mixtape, album or associated merchandise, you have just become "commercial" whether you like it or not.  No, your top priority in the game may not be getting to Jay-Z, Dr. Dre or Diddy status--although getting paid for your hard work should be high on the list.  No, you don't have all the bells and whistles that other rappers have with their music, i.e., spitting over $1 million beats and extending the bling era by another 15-20 years with your lyrics and extravagant videos.  No, you don't get as much shine as they do on the radio or on music videos channels, possibly due to your inability and unwillingness to get into payola.  Nevertheless, your first sale just made you the very thing that you rebel so hard against because you didn't know what you were saying in the first place--just like you didn't know that "real hip-hop" as you knew it was a myth.  As much as they're hip-hop, you're commercial; you're just dressed up in different threads than they are--figuratively and literally.

Speaking of appearances, let's talk about another issue I have with this myth of "real" hip-hop--and fair warning, I am guaranteed to offend a lot of people with this particular paragraph.  With all this talk about "real" and "fake", there's a lot of fronting going on with many of these "real" hip-hop artists, supporters and "purists".  A lot of people are good for hollering "Mother Earth" and "hotep" every five seconds; dressing "earthy", rocking dreads and wearing ankhs, beads and African medallions instead of gaudy, diamond-encrusted Jesus pieces, necklaces and bracelets; and eating nothing but gluten-free products and bathing in black soap.  You got another group of folks that either go extremely "B-boy status" or simply rock hoodies, fitted caps, slightly baggier jeans and less high-end clothing in general.  Many of these folks will wear their support of Jean Grae as a badge of honor on one sleeve and their "rage against the machine" that includes Nicki Minaj on the other.  On the flipside, many of these same folks will pop off on a nightly basis more than safety seals on Snapples; get high as the ozone layer that they're trying to save; have even longer rap sheets than their actual book of rhymes; keep baby mama or baby daddy drama; and/or covet the same success that their counterparts are either pursuing or already possess.  Yeah, they might dance to Mos Def's "Ms. Fat Booty" (a.k.a. the unintended precursor to T-Pain's "I'm 'n Luv (Wit a Stripper)") instead of French Montana's "Pop That", but it ain't like alcohol doesn't get involved, bodies maintain credit card space or church-hug distance, and numbers don't get exchanged for a "cutty buddy" session by the end of the night.  When it comes down to it, they're doing a lot of the same things for which they criticize the "fake" hip-hop crowd.  The difference is that many of the "real" hip-hop heads just hide behind masks of denouncing the mainstream, dropping knowledge and being about that hip-hop life.  No matter how shallow they appear to be, I'll give credit to many of the mainstream rappers for at least being real about their "boats and hoes" pursuits--and they do it without throwing shots at the underground culture.

As far as "the struggle" goes, the misunderstanding that underground artists and hip-hop "purists" have about "commercial" artists is that they don't speak enough on "the struggle" because they're too busy partying, banging everything moving, poppin' Mollies and sweatin' (WOO!), giving a bullet point list of their material possessions and breaking money-counting machines from all the stacks they have.  However, "commercial" artists have their own unique struggle because many of them have come from rough backgrounds, and their new struggle is like one of Jay-Z's best songs on American Gangster describes: having a clear-cut definition of "success".  When record labels tell these artists that they have to put out a single that sounds like 10-20 other people on the radio or try to convince them that their videos should feature "exotic" women, sports and/or luxury cars and humongous mansions, they essentially struggle just to be themselves.  Ask a heralded lyricist like Lupe Fiasco about what he went through when Atlantic Records essentially twisted his arm about the highly-criticized Lasers album after releasing two generally-acclaimed albums in Food & Liquor and The Cool that garnered respectable, but not bank-breaking earnings.  Look at Wale and his struggles with Attention Deficit--which was met with generally positive reviews, but only sold 200,000 copies within a two-year span.  Now he's with Rick Ross' Maybach Music Group and has way more exposure than he did with Mark Ronson--though many would contend that he made better music during his Allido days.  Heck, ask my homie Rize Above about his struggle in initially spitting more "conscious" music, but how he got very little love when he did and essentially tailored his music with more of a commercial appeal.  If the gripe is that folks during the "golden age" at least had more social commentary behind their music, then you have a plausible argument.  Nevertheless, if you listen hard enough, the struggle is there even with the "commercial" rappers; it just manifests itself differently than typical "struggle" rap.

All this boils down to is one of the biggest issues within the hip-hop culture: it is way too representative of the level of separation within the Black community and America in general.  It might not outright be the "Wannabes vs. Jigaboos" dichotomy from School Daze, but it's not far off when you think about the notions of rich vs. poor, shiny vs. gritty, North vs. South, young vs. old or "real" vs. "fake".  From breakdancing to DJing to emceeing, the culture is rooted in battles because it was born out of battling the injustices that prevailed throughout the inner city.  Consequently, therein lies the gift and the curse of the hip-hop culture: we allow ourselves to be separated across way too many lines instead of finding the common ground, essentially perpetuating a new brand of injustice.  Think about it...we wouldn't have had "Country Cousins" if Talib Kweli turned his Brooklyn nose up at collaborating with Port Arthur, Texas natives and hip-hop vets UGK.  Jay-Z would've never put out his highly-favored Unplugged album or wouldn't have been able to take his live shows to the next level if ?uestlove and The Roots decided that he was too Hollywood for them.  Imagine if Common shunned fellow Chicagoan Kanye West because he was associated with Roc-A-Fella and the largely-celebrated Be album never came to life.  Picture David Banner not being able to flex his artistic diversity to rap on "out-of-the-box" beats (at least considering his history) if 9th Wonder wasn't all in for Death of a Pop Star.  The truly successful, heralded and relevant artists within hip-hop are those very things because they refuse to cut their nose off to spite their face by saying things like, "I only work with real hip-hop artists and producers."  That puts a muzzle on the mouth of a culture that was based on having a voice, and doing so cheats the hip-hop fan base out of witnessing some awesome collaborations between the most unlikely of alliances.

I'll say the following in defense of the preservationists, protectors and "purists" of the hip-hop culture.  If the contention is underground hip-hop vs. mainstream hip-hop, then I can't knock an argument from that platform.  If you wanna come from the stance that "rap is something you do, hip-hop is something you live", then I won't deny that assertion too much either.  If your beef is that today's hip-hop music ain't got the same soul and it's nothing more than the same old crimes by different perpetrators, then you won't hear much of a rebuttal from me.  If your issue is that too many "fake" hip-hoppers glorify the unsavory aspects of society, then I've already boarded that train and got a window seat.  However, I just can't co-sign folks telling other folks that their music isn't "real" hip-hop.

Going back to an earlier reference to the Christian church, it's like a holy rolling chick telling someone else that they're not a real Christian because they party on Saturday and praise on Sunday--all while she's banging the married pastor or going around gossiping every five minutes.  She doesn't know how much that "sinner" or "backslider" prays and intends to repent for their infractions, reads their Bible and spreads the Word of God or sings their highest praises; she just assumes that they can't be about that life because of what she sees.  True, they should strive for better, but she has no idea what path God is paving for that person or how their overall story including the sins is going to encourage someone else.  Unless she's reaching out to disciple that person or putting someone in place to disciple that person instead of passing judgment, then their journey is really none of her business.  Same thing goes with hip-hop--a culture that many within it equate with a religion.  Many people that scream "real hip-hop is not on the radio" are often the biggest douche bags and snobs with the most amount of BS.  On the converse, the folks who talk about sex, swagger and material things relentlessly are often the coolest, most humble folks in-person.  You can assume what you choose about a "fake" hip-hopper's life because of what they present, but you still don't know that person because critical and judgmental people may have made it difficult for that person to be an open book.  If more of the "real" hip-hop heads opted to reach out to the "fake" hip-hop folks in lieu of "constructively criticizing" them, then maybe they would be more receptive to useful feedback that can help them to improve their craft.  No matter what, their stories are still important because they represent the sign of the times and, unfortunately, that's always a bit realer than most folks care to discuss. 

Just like us Christians talk about being part of "the Body of Christ", those of us who are part of the hip-hop culture are a part of one body as well.  Different parts of the body have different functions that work in conjunction with each other to stay alive.  While some can claim that the brain or the heart are more important for survival, that body is still in jeopardy if the parts of your body that touch and circulate the "nastiness"--i.e., blood, semen, urine, excrement, etc.--don't do their job...and that's realer than Real Deal Holyfield.

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