“Rappers suck, when they spit I doubt ‘em/
The crap they sing about make you wanna slap the f**kin sh** out ‘em.’”
– MF Doom, El Chupa Nibre, The Mouse and the Mask.
No
doubt, MF Doom’s indictment of today’s rap ‘artists’ comes off as tame
when compared to the overall emotion expressed by Hip-Hop fans around
the world. Doom, who once promised to “[c]atch a rapper by his toe and smack off his tattoos,”
is not too far off in translating the desires of Hip-Hop fans who have
witnessed a drastic degeneration of content, drive, and concept, in
today’s rap songs. Many, such as Nas, have since declared Hip-Hop
“dead,” for its devil-may-care attitude toward dominant forms of
hedonism, materialism, despotism and chauvinism within the culture. Whether
one agrees with the concept of resolving Hip-Hop’s problems through
violence or hyperbolic rhetoric, one thing remains irrefutable –
Hip-Hop is morally sick and in need of divine help. In this perilous
age, a prophetic change must come.
Though
we all find many parts of modern-day Hip-Hop unbecoming of the vision
inspired by Afrika Bambaattaa, we cannot save the Hip-Hop generation by
engaging in the same pathetic exercises of bemoaning and complaining
about the loss of the ‘Golden Age’ era – where everything operated
under the canopy of perfection. It is disrespectful to the present and
does not provide much inspiration for the future. In fact, I have
consistently maintained the premise that many elements of the so-called
Golden-Age
paved the path for some of the more-discouraging aspects of our beloved
art-form today. The ‘Superfly-generation’ was neither faultless nor
flawless. Can anyone confidently make the claim that Big Daddy Kane, in
all his majesty, was devoid of misogyny? The art-covers of “Long Live
the Kane” and “It’s a Big Daddy Thing” – all ’80s-babies – do little
justice to the causes of Feminism and Womanism. The grand lyricist
would, years later – in his Count Mackula character, from Prince Paul’s
“A Prince Among Thieves,” – suggest that “thirty-six prostitutes and
thirty cents in your pocket” lends credence to the claim that “hoes
come a dime a dozen.” Following this logic, Big Daddy Kane should be as
much a misogynist as Nelly, 50 cent, Ludacris, Jay-Z and even Common,
are professed to be. It is, therefore, clear that the problems of
Hip-Hop are not specifiable to our myopic generalizations of 21st
century Hip-Hop artists. Another development which I wish to address,
and hopefully arrest, is the notion that social-consciousness within
Hip-Hop is the solution to our countless problems.
Politically-charged
Hip-Hop, while temporarily conducive, is not the answer.
Socially-conscious artists simply react to the catastrophic casualties
surrounding them. This explains the rise of social-consciousness, in
Hip-Hop, shortly after the initiation of Reaganomics and the influx of
crack into Black ghettoes across the nation. As the ‘80s swept in the
debris of arch-conservatism, Reagan swiftly became the punching bag of
frustration for artists who grew up in the inner-cities, and witnessed
the commercialization of their neighborhoods – especially the Bronx –
through scandalous governmental contracts. As a bonus, this era of
depression would yield an unprecedented demand for crack, cocaine and
other miscellaneous drugs. Busta Rhymes informs us in “Takin’ What’s
Mine” – produced by the inimitable J. Dilla – that though finances were
scarce, “the coke was so good, the fiends was smoking the capsule.” In “You Can’t Hide, You Can’t Run,” Dilated Peoples express similar sentiments, noting that “crack
and gangs flourished under Ronald Reagan.” As a result, a surge of
social-consciousness was inevitable, as Hip-Hop artists, with their
mic-clutched hands on the pulse of the ghettoes, could accurately gauge
the emotion of Black and Brown neighborhoods. Nevertheless,
with social-consciousness at the apex, several artists recognized its
inability to render long-lasting remedies to ailing-communities across
the country, and the world at-large.
A
few, such as Public Enemy, Brand Nubian, Poor Righteous Teachers, Lakim
Shabazz, and eventually, Tupac recognized the need to elevate Hip-Hop’s
consciousness from the political to the prophetic. They all, at some
point, incorporated the prophetic tradition of bearing unmitigated
witness in their truth-telling, through the vehicle of Hip-Hop. It
should come as no surprise, to readers, that this writer believes
Tupac’s legacy of prophetic truth-telling will remain unparalleled for
years, and perhaps decades, to come. In
Blasphemy, a truly prophetic offering, Tupac encourages listeners to
bring critique to bear on the politics of religion and theocracy:
“The preacher want me buried why? Cause I know he a liar/Have you ever seen a crackhead, that’s eternal fire/Why you got these kids minds thinking that they evil/While the preacher being richer, you say honor God’s people/Should we cry, when the Pope die, my request/We should cry if they cried when we buried Malcolm X/”
Tupac
remains an inextinguishable icon in popular music, and literature, for
this reason. What he understood, which many, otherwise,
socially-conscious artists are unaware of, is that the prophetic mode
resists the temptation of simply reiterating the problems of crime and
inequality, but instead offers viable resolutions to liberate the
mental and spiritual faculty of listeners. Tupac understood, quite
clearly, that socially-conscious artists simply underline the social
ramifications of society’s actions – nothing to do with personal
character – yet, prophetically-aligned artists seek to address the
problems of the world in a truthful, candid, complex and
divinely-sophisticated fashion – through exemplary leadership that
provides hope for the future.
If
Hip-Hop’s official reaction to the recent U.S. presidential election
was of any significance, it goes without saying that the prophetic wing
was surely missing, in its uncritical embracement of President-Elect
Obama as the ‘change candidate.’ Safe for a few politically-conscious
artists, such as Dead Prez, NYOIL and Rebel Diaz, the Hip-Hop realm was
engulfed in ‘Obamamania,’ as it sold itself short in proclaiming Obama
the “first Hip-Hop president.” Seconds after Obama unveiled his iPod,
and revealed his love for card-carrying misogynists, a la
Ludacris and Jay-z, the Hip-Hop nation professed loyalty to ‘Bama, over
Bambaattaa.. Prophetic Hip-Hop, which operates as a countervailing
force of righteousness against war, empire and unrest, was omitted in
the unmerited support thrown Obama’s way, as he rode the high carriage
of popularity and celebrity into victory. This phenomenon of the
Hip-Hop community abdicating its prophetic mission to compensate for
social-consciousness took form as early as 2004, when, as Rosa Clemente
– National Hip-Hop Political Convention co-founder – remembers it,
the convention was more concerned with recruiting Black and Brown
voters “to vote for John Kerry,” than building a movement of substance
to counter the corporate forces Sen. Kerry represented.
It
should be, at this point, clear that social-consciousness would not
suffice in rehabilitating the Hip-Hop community. Prophetic Hip-Hop
seems to be the only savior for a generation bred on Lil’ Wayne, Jim
Jones, Young Jeezy, Lil’ Scrappy, Mike Jones, Paul Wall, Soulja Boy,
etc. With prophetic Hip-Hop, the years of industry-sanctioned
Black-on-Black violence – be it verbally or physically – can be finally
laid to rest, and washed away over the oceans of memory. Prophetic
Hip-Hop can also help stop the bleeding begun by corporate executives
of record labels, and begin a genuine healing process for female
Hip-Hop listeners. A New Year should herald a new phase and a new
beginning. By the end of this New Year, there would be no doubt as to
whether Hip-Hop survives as an art-form, or devolves into the
commercial enterprise it is becoming. So, what’s it gonna be: Prophetic
Hip-Hop or socially-conscious Rap?Tolu Olorunda is a Columnist for BlackCommentator.com.
