Introspection (Explicit)

The readings for class this week were as interesting as they were diverse. They tell us much about the seventies, and the foundational years of hip hop. They question and explore the dynamic of the influence of greed and monetarism, and reach significant questions about race. But, one reading was potentially shattering for hip hop fans like me.

I’ve been reading the PDF articles throughout the week, and had an opportunity to get through the material from That’s the Joint! just this morning. The order of reading shouldn’t really matter, but as I finished reading the final article “The Rap on Rap: The ‘Black Music’ that Isn’t Either” it occurred to me that I had just been indicted. Samuel’s, I believe, is making the point that I am nothing more than a tourist. My experience with hip hop is akin to “‘buying Navajo blankets at a reservation road stop.” But it gets worse, in my recognition of hip hop, I am a complicit in spreading and reaffirming “racist stereotypes, [and] brutality towards women.” I don’t know if I was ready for this kind of introspection. I have personally been guilty of putting “Fuck the Police” on at a college party with overwhelming Caucasian dominated audience. I sing along to the most obscene of songs on “XL Backspin” radio on XM. If we take Samuel’s point to the most literal extension, we have some significant issues to confront.

So what kind of defense can I make against Samuel’s argument (well the part of his general argument that was the most damaging to me, there is more too it). Do I point to my liberal arts coursework, and the justification that at least I know its offensive material? Do I point to my favorite hip hop artists and demonstrate that A Tribe Called Quest and The Roots are much different than Easy-E and Immortal Technique? I have a Miles Davis T-Shirt, a guy who likes jazz has a right to access hip hop, right?

I'm obviously jesting about some of this, but it is one dynamic that a Drury classroom needs to have some conception of before diving into a semester of hip hop studies. I’ll leave the argument for comments and discussions in class, but this would be my main point, but Light makes it so much better, so I’ll let him.

“[R]ap is unarguably the most culturally significant style in pop, the genre that speaks most directly to and for its audience, full of complications, contradictions, and confusions. But what gets lost in this discussion, tragically, is that rap is also the single most creative, revolutionary approach to music and to music making that this generation has constructed.” Alan Light, “About Salary or Reality?” p. 138 in That’s the Joint!

The Roots

Welcome to Blogs, Rhymes and Life. This is my first blog post I have made ever, and I wonder with the creation of such a medium if I will look back at this posting with any significance. Viewing the event in the way I remember my first bike ride, my first cell phone, the first time I voted in an election, or my introduction to Facebook. But any discussion of "firsts" can be quite revealing about the present. This week’s readings deal with a number of firsts.

I discovered hip-hop by accident, and with the exception of knowing significant tracks and artists from what I have always called "old school" rap, I have very little concept of how it all began. I was attending a concert of the group 311, who I saw at every opportunity when I was in high school. The opening act, which I knew little about, was The Roots, who had a hit single called "The Seed" at the time. Why would I be interested in a "rap" group? I wanted to see drums, guitar, and a nice slapping bass line. To my surprise, that is what they provided, and I was blown away by the performance. Years later I travel to see The Roots, and I missed the last 311 show in Springfield. That was the power of my first hip hop experience.

But the readings describe a much different beginning for hip hop culture than I have ever experienced. The readings from Yes Yes Y’all and the article "Hip Hop’s Founding Fathers Speak the Truth" all describe the beginnings of the scene in almost a desperate sense. Violence, drugs, a radio and club scene that many people could not identify with all led people to begin experimenting with music, art, religion and dance that could be expressive and uniquely original to their experience. Afrika Bambaataa’s recollections in the readings describe this. He started with graffiti, experimented with sound systems, founded the Zulu nation, but his actions proved to have impacts beyond his own development. As Richard Sisco says on p. 53 of Yes Yes Y’all, “Bam gave them good direction and gave them some self respect.” When I think of the song “Apache” my inclination is to think bell-bottoms and a disco era hip hop scene. But the reality seems to be Afrika Bambaataa choosing to bring his message and art form to places like the Bronx River Center, known for its gang violence, to the relief of people like D. J. Breakout and Bom5 who needed the outlet.

So now I am more aware of the history of the D.J., the scratch, graffiti, b-boying, the sound system, and the early days of hip-hop culture. The question still must be asked, what’s the point? How does this qualify for academic study? Michael Eric Dyson answers this in the prelude of Know What I Mean? To oversimplify his argument, and perhaps avoid the academic debate, it’s simply an undeniably “powerful art form,” that has grabbed global attention. My experience with hip hop is a testament to that appeal. There are undoubtedly scholars at top universities whose research and scholarship is on Oscar Wilde or Voltaire. But I submit that The Picture of Dorian Gray or Candide will have less an impact on future generations than NWA’s Straight Outta Compton or A Tribe Called Quest’s The Low End Theory.