“Hey young world, the world is yours/”
—Slick Rick,
“Hey Young World,” The Great Adventures
of Slick Rick.
“Do we sell
our souls to the Devil/
For yellow pieces of metal/”
—M.anifest, “Wahala,” Coming to America.
You’re between the ages of 9 and 16,
reading this. All your life, you’ve been told that the world is yours to
conquer. Many have encouraged you to pursue your dreams and passions. If you
work hard enough, and dream far enough, the opportunities are limitless, they
said. All you have to do is set forth your feet on the path to success and
self-discovery. Well, I’m here to tell you that if major Record Label executives,
terrestrial Hip-Hop media, commercial Hip-Hop artists, and mainstream Hip-Hop
fans have any say, this world would never become yours.
Know that most music executives are no
better than the financial geniuses whose scandalous endeavors are reason for
today’s global economic meltdown. Know that they don’t mind poisoning your
intellect with any kind of music, destructive as it may be, so long as it’s
financially profitable. Know that they have at their disposal the fate of most
of your favorite artists, and they’re much willing to swing it in whichever
direction they so please. Know that their true intention is never to equip you
with musical contributions that might stimulate thoughts, but to throw their
weight behind any piece of sound that appeals to their conception of the
world—hyper-capitalism.
Know that if they decided, at once, to
promote productive, progressive, and prophetic music from their chambers, your
future might not end up dominated by auto-tune prostitutes—as it’s currently
positioned to. Know that if they spent more money on artist development,
diversity of style, and lyrical versatility, the world might truly be yours.
“Roll to every station, murder the DJ/
Roll to every station, murder the DJ/”
Understand that most of terrestrial
Hip-Hop media—radio stations, websites, blogs, TV stations—are essentially foot
soldiers of the Record Label executives. Understand that the on-air
personalities which you listen to on your favorite stations are not as powerful
as they might sound. Understand that these robots cannot resist the pressure to
play over and over again a select number of songs; for if they do, those who
construct the playlists would see to it that their job is given immediately to
someone who can perform more obediently and efficiently—the job of a radio DJ
nowadays seems to be easier than a telemarketer’s. Understand that payola—pay for play—is the new world order of
today’s Hip-Hop media—be it the cable entertainment channel designated for Black people, be it the
well-known Hip-Hop blogs, be it the popular Hip-Hop news sites, be it your
“Hot” and “Power” radio stations—thereby rendering farcical any such schemes as
“call-in-requests” or viewer-decided countdowns.
Understand that their passion for
cowardice has endangered your future a great deal, ensuring that the only
artists permitted for radio play are those whose morals are found in the
gutters of Materialism, Misogyny and Minstrelsy.. Understand that if they,
overnight, grew up beyond their pubertal stage, and began demanding quality
music from the Record Labels, refusing to play songs which beat the same drums
of filth and immorality, dedicating their airwaves to socially responsible
tracks, the world might truly be yours.
“I can’t rap—pass me the program/
I can’t sing—pass me the program/”
Be aware that many of the artists whom
you love so dearly are perhaps your deadliest enemies. Be aware that, in these
times, a backbone is as useful to a commercial Hip-Hop artist as a sunglass to
a blind man/woman—a prop. Be aware that if spinelessness was a life-ending
disease, most of your beloved artists would be deceased. Be aware that their
inability to speak candidly against injustice condoned in the music
industry—misogyny, racism, homophobia, materialism—is not so much acceptance of
it, but fear of what cost political courage demands.
Be aware that many Hip-Hop artists have
little say over what kind of music they lace their vocals on, what image is
promoted to the public, what content is contained in their music. Be aware that
if they looked around and saw their strength—the strength of a supporting
public—and developed some intestinal fortitude, commanding the respect they
deserve from their bosses and putting first their dignity, not only would the
music you listen to not contain so many derogatory remarks about women, not
abuse your innocence at such young an age, and rather appeal to a greater sense
of who you are, but the world might truly become yours.
“Take my beloved Rap music, erase the beat/
Consumers act like they’re afraid of intelligent
speech/”
Never forget that many mainstream
Hip-Hop fans are less honorable than a trained chimp. Never forget that these
flock of sheep are much willing to do the Record Labels’ bidding, that their
integrity is not worth more than the $10 cds they thoughtlessly spend their
paychecks on, that their self-worth has been purchased and sold by the same
executives who taunt them with free
concert tickets and backstage passes. Never forget that in their hands lies the
future of Hip-Hop music; in whichever direction they decide to take it, through
the power of their penny, it will go. Never forget that they know the extent to
which their culpability has noosed cheap imitation around the neck of Hip-Hop
artistry, cutting off all circulation of creativity from its head; but they’re unprepared,
anytime soon, to repent and turn from
their wicked ways.
Never forget that in this company they hold the most shares, but
if they don’t start making enough noise now, letting the Record Labels, media
stations, and artists understand their frustration with the lackluster values
being promoted through modern-day Hip-Hop, these powerful shareholders would be
trading the future of a bright, upcoming generation for the ephemeral
opportunity to snap their fingers and shake their money-makers. Never forget
that they can, with one push of the button, reset the dangerous drive Hip-Hop
has taken this last decade, restore its moral compass, and return to the times
when the most fragile and vulnerable where at the core of the Hip-Hop ministry;
in doing this, the world might truly become yours.
Above all, always remember that the
world is yours, and nobody can ever take it away from you; but there are many
forces in this world trying to, and it is your duty to protect it by thinking
critically, opening the doors of your mind to the visitors of knowledge and
wisdom, and challenging authority at all critical stops on the journey to
self-empowerment.
“…It’s true that the world is still yours, but it’s
changing/”
—Ian Kamau, “Majority Report,” September Nine Mixtape Vol. 1.Tolu Olorunda is a cultural critic and a Columnist for BlackCommentator.com. He can be reached at Tolu.Olorunda@gmail.com.
