Hip-Hop Foundations and Conscious Era (1986–1995) | Global Journal of Hip-Hop Culture Vol 2 Issue 1

FROM THE STREETS TO THE UNIVERSITY- VOL.2, ISSUE 1

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About the WB&L Journal Inspired by the intellectual energies of the 2002 inaugural Words Beats & Life (WBL) Hip-Hop Conference at the University of Maryland, College Park and born out of the creative vision of Mazi Mutafa, the founder and executive director of WBL, the WB&L Journal initially came to life as a venue through which the contributions of hip-hop culture could be explored within the Academy.

The first issue of the Journal was the result of a call for submissions that secured contributions from notable scholar Mark Anthony Neal and internationally known spoken word artist jessica care moore.

The initial goal was for contributors to be invited to present their work at the second annual WB&L Hip-Hop Conference. Comprised of graduate and undergraduate students as well as distinguished University of Maryland faculty, the review board examined more than 100 submissions received from the United Kingdom, South Africa, Alaska and California. After the overwhelming response to what was originally intended to be an online journal featuring poetry and essays developed into what has become the WB&L Journal, a vehicle to showcase graffiti, graphic art, photography, poetry, short stories, scholarly reviews, and essays in addition to music contributed to the Express Yourself Mix Tape.

Volume 2 will continue to push the envelope of what an academic journal of hip-hop culture can be. We encourage you to utilize any of the issues from volume one as a required text or resource in your work.

The WB&L Journal is actively working to cultivate relationships with universities, individual professors, teachers, student organizations, libraries, bookstore owners, hip-hop conferences and community activists.

The WB&L Journal is funded through direct sales and patron underwriting. This is your opportunity to support the mission of the WB&L Journal to bring hip hop “From the Street to the University”.

WORDS BEATS & LIFE INC. 1327 R STREET, N.W., SUITE 23 WASHINGTON DC 20001 202-667-1192 WWW.WBLINC.ORG

Words . Beats . Life

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It’s kind of funny how working on this issue of the Words. Beats.

Life. Global Journal of Hip-Hop was so drastically different from any previous issues. The process was filled with numerous surprises, victories and setbacks. The issue that you now hold in your hands is for the first time, the work of an entire staff. This year, the staff of the Journal made a new commitment to what the Journal would be.

We began to work as a staff, meeting weekly. The content of this issue underwent the highest level of scrutiny and revision any edition of the Journal ever has.

Volume 2, issue 1 is also the first issue that the staff contributed to which represents a shift in the politics of the publication. We made a decision that we would publish submissions we did not agree with but, in return, we would also publish articles that represent our own particular political ideologies, diverse as they are. We would make a conscious effort to solicit the best representations of divergent perspectives and set them in opposition to each other and let the reader sort through the arguments. This is especially important because one of our goals as a publication is to elevate the level of scholarship related to hip-hop. This fact is laid out in our expressed goal of bringing hip-hop from the street to the university.

In an effort to become a greater resource to our readers, subscribers and contributors, the staff added a number of new sections. In previous issues the Journal showcased essays, scholarly reviews, poetry and visual artists. This issue, however, represents the intentional creation of a publication that can be used as a resource for teachers at various levels. By adding questions at the end of each submission, editorial staff hopes to spark conversation in classrooms and community centers alike.

The staff also made a conscious decision to begin to promote the work of other organizations, groups and crews we support in the form of free advertising. For example, you will find an ad for a CD called The Movement created by the Raw Dialect Crew. We chose to support this dope underground group because on more than one occasion the members of the crew have volunteered their time and talents at our D.C. Urban Arts Academy. They have also decided to generously donate a portion of all the sales of this record to support the D.C. Urban Arts Academy.

The featured high school essay represents the staffs commitment to putting our money where our mouth is to support youth entering America’s universities. Shout out to the brothers of Phi Beta Sigma, Sigma Sigma Sigma chapter for fronting the dough.

The information section is also intended to offer a myriad of resources that often go unnoticed by the average person. The editors are committed to spreading the word about organizations whose work we support. This month’s organization is “Industry Ears,” a non-profit committed to transforming the national landscape of commercial radio.

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It’s a fairly young organization, but in its short time, they have initiated innovative projects that need community support.

I came to a strange realization in preparing this issue for publication.

It is the new standard by which future issues will be measured. I am not simply talking about our move to color printing. The standards of the publication have been elevated in the realm of editing, layout/design and content. We worked hard to bring this issue to life and did a number of things that we have never done before. I believe that we have been rewarded with content that is unparalleled.

Inside are articles by a number of America’s emerging and premier scholars. Activists Hadji Williams, author of How to Save Your Job From Corporate America, a work dedicated to breaking down what Williams sees as the dangers inherent in working in corporate America.

The Journal was also fortunate to have Mark Anthony Neal, hip-hop journalist and academic, make his second contribution to the publication.

Mark was one of the first scholars to contribute work to the Journal in Volume 1, Issue 1. Brian Coleman, author of Rakim Told Me, one of the best-reviewed works of the season also made a contribution to this issue. Davey D, hip-hop journalist and historian and long-time friend of WB&L contributed in the form of an interview about the history of West Coast hip-hop. Our first interaction with Davey D was at the second annual Words Beats & Life Hip-hop Conference. I even submitted some work of my own in the form of a section from my forthcoming book.

We decided as a staff to not just promote emerging scholars, but also to be a more effective resource to scholars by providing reference material reviews. Those referrals have taken the form of reviews of albums and books contributed by Jason Nichols and Dr. Jared Ball, respectively.

We have also been fortunate enough to receive contributions from one of Tennessees best-kept secrets, Ron Heard, a brilliant visual artist and author. Last, though far from least, China Okasi held us down with the cutting-edge scholarship our readers have come to expect for the Journal along with the whimsically meticulous word plays of Bomani Armah.

In a word, this issue is LIFE! in three words, it’s WORDS BEAT & LIFE., the first international journal of hip-hop culture.

Words, beats and life! Words, beats and life! Those three things are what R.A.P. (Rhythmic American Poetry) became to mean to me. It is what defines how I felt about the music that I fell in love with almost instantaneously. I became consumed with this music that made my body move but at the same time stimulated my curiosity for learning. I mean, it was obvious that I was being entertained by this music, that much I knew. What was not obvious was the fact that I was learning things from this new style of music at an incredible rate. It was so regaling to me, and I was so young that I had no idea what was being fed to my brain. I just simply could not get enough of it. Rap music was life. The words and the beats became my life.

significant contributions to the American community. The classrooms I sat in were never havens for this type of education. I learned about Black history from my mother and from rap music. I found out from these two entities that Black history is American history as well as world history. Chuck D taught me about Huey P. Newton and the Black Panther Party. KRS-ONE taught me about Charles Drew and Lewis Lattimer. The Intelligent Hoodlum taught me about Marcus Garvey. A Tribe Called Quest introduced me Stevie Biko and the sacrifices he made to fight apartheid in South Africa. I was never taught about these people or many other Blacks while I sat in my formal middle school or high school classrooms.

When I came to America from Trinidad at age 10, I was devoid of the music I grew up on. There was an absence of the rich steel pan and soca music that Trinidad had provided me. Suddenly, I was in a place where those forms of music failed to exist. No one outside of my apartment was listening to anything that resembled soca or steel pan.

I quickly had to adapt to a new way of life, as do many children who come to the United States from other countries. I had always taken to things that I found interesting. I took to basketball immediately, and I took to rap music in the same way. I became entranced the first time I heard that sound accompanied by spoken words flowing out of my friend’s boom box. It sounded like nothing I had ever heard before.

I could feel the passion that emanated from the rapper’s voice and the beats that clung to it. That day I was formally introduced to rap music. Rap music became my solace, my teacher, my buddy and one of the sources of my Black identity.

The things I learned from listening to rap music in the mid-1980s to the early 1990s played a vital role in my development intellectually. It played a tremendous role in my self-esteem. Rap music planted many seeds of knowledge within me that have since blossomed into bountiful trees that have shaped who I have become as a man. I am knowledgeable of my legacy, those who paved the way for me and the rich history of Black people in this world. All of these things have contributed to my identity in terms of who I am and the responsibility I have to teach others what I have learned. I am now an educator and, frequently, I try to find creative ways to introduce the rap music of the “Conscious Era” to my students. It is replete with information that is educational, motivational and inspiring. I honed my critical thinking skills through the myriad of rap artists who paraded themselves throughout the 1980s. I became inspired to become active in my community because of rap music. I became so proud to be Black, in large part, because of rap. The music just had that ability to reach out and call to its listeners and teach them in the most entertaining way.

I grew to know artists such as KRS-ONE, Public Enemy, Poor Righteous Teachers, Brand Nubian, Intelligent Hoodlum, Queen Latifah, Main Source, the Native Tongues Crew, Too $hort and LL Cool J, to name a few. I didn’t know them personally, but I sure felt as though I did listening to their music. The words these artists rapped were nothing short of ingenious. I was so entertained by the rhythm, the beats, the lyrical content and the style that these musicians encompassed. Later I found some of these artists to be among the best teachers of history that I would ever have. I was not taught by them in a conventional classroom with a dilapidated blackboard, out-dated textbooks and squeaky wooden desks, that was not my classroom for instruction. When I was being taught by the likes of BDP and Public Enemy, my classroom was wherever I happened to be listening to their music. Sometimes it was on the bus while my Walkman’s headphones rested gently on my ears. Sometimes it was outside near the basketball courts where they lectured from my boy’s boombox, or “ghetto blaster,” as we used to call it. All I had to do was listen to the music. The best part was that it was fun to learn from them. I didn’t even realize until I was older how much I actually was learning about history, politics and vocabulary.

Growing up as a young Black male in the 1980s, I was not privy to an educational system which placed a strong emphasis on the history and legacy of Black people in America. While in middle school and high school, I never learned about Black people who made

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The African medallions, high-top fades and overalls all symbolized aspects of that era of rap music. It was the best time of my life. I found out how ladies were first, how to stop self-destruction, how to H.E.A.L myself and how knowledge is king. These lessons were given to me courtesy of my lyrical professors. They are lessons I carry today. They are lessons that have helped shape my identity.

I will forever be indebted to rap music. It is the music that shaped my generation while I was growing up in the 1980s. I just want to say thank you to Chuck D, KRS-ONE, Queen Latifah, Main Source, Big Daddy Kane, De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, Intelligent Hoodlum, Kool Moe Dee and so many others. Your lyrics live on through me, as well as so many others!

By: Solomon W.F. Comissiong President, SCMB Educational Consulting

Mr. Michael Husband Mr. Anthony G Currie Ms. Toby Jenkins Mr. Mark Lawrence Dr. Christine Clark Ms. Esther Coleman Ms.Najeema Washington Ms. Blythe Robinson Mr. Scott Selby Dr. Clyde Woods Mr. Kymone Freeman

Words . Beats . Life

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By: Mazi A. Mutafa

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the assertion that both “Black and Latino” have many common cultural, phenotipical and politically struggles and successes in common. Brown people have a common history of struggle against repression and of working through tohe arts to promote a political agenda of communal liberation.

More

than that, hip-hop is an outgrowth of the frustrated

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fter the Egyptian and Indian, the Greek and Roman, the Teuton and Mongolian, the Negro is a sort of 7th son, born with a veil and gifted with a second sight in this American world, a world which yields him no true self consciousness but only lets him see himself through the revelation of the other world. It is a peculiar sensation, this double consciousness, this sense of always looking at ones self through the eyes of others, of measuring ones soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.

One ever feels his two-ness, - an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder.1

children of working poor people who came to America’s cities hoping to find work and freedom in America’s industrial centers. Many of hip-hop’s architects came from across the country and around the globe to be part of an emerging artistic movement.

For Blacks living in the South Bronx, hip-hop was a platform to contribute to the artistic continuum of Black cultural self-determination. The West Indian and Latino immigrants in New York often came with a will to embrace American wealth and ideals while simultaneously maintain their own independent

. . it didn’t come out of nowhere—no cultural identity. spontaneous generation of this deadly virus.

The b-boys-the dancers, graffiti writers, the kids just hanging out—who carried the hipAt its most elemental level hip-hop is a hop attitude forth were reacting to disco, the product of post Civil Rights era America, a funk, and the chaotic world of New York city set of cultural forms originally nurtured by 2 in the ‘70’s. .

African Americans, Caribbean Americans, and Latino American youth in and around New York City in the 70s. Its most popular An African “American” Experience vehicle for expression has been music, though dance, painting, fashion, video, crime and commerce are also its playing field.3 In many ways, Hip-Hop is the story of Brown cultural liberation and musical traditions which For many of those immigrants, working poor and were influenced by Latino dance traditions and youth in the early 1970s, hip-hop was a viable vehicle West Indian musical innovations. The reader should

to create a new identity within the American ideals of

know that throughout this article, Black and Latino life, liberty and the pursuit of meaning. Hip-hop for people will be described as Brown, in part to make

some was a universal banner under which protest,

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ABSTRACT

Mos Definitely Hip-Hop: Black Youth and Consciousness in the Work of Mos Def By: China N. Okasi Photos By: Mobb House

Mos Def’s hip-hop album “Black on Both Sides” employs a range of musical styles from reggae, pop, soul, funk, to Rock-n-Roll.

However, almost Def’s usage of those h i s

all of Mos styles reveals relegation of them as ultimately “Black musical innovations.”

His album’s very title, “Black on Both Sides” deserves study. What two sides is Mos Def referring to as being Black; to whom is he referring; to what does this Blackness belong?

Considering his album’s concern with Black youth and music in relation to Black history and consciousness, we postulate that his album signals two important sides of Black youth.

Being Black on the one side refers to the racial characteristic and physical presence of Black youth in music history.

Being ‘Black’ on the second side refers to a conscious obligation towards the liberation and empowerment of a KEY WORDS Black self, which his album suggests, has been Mos Def stifled throughout history and Black on Both Sides continues now.

Consciousness Hip-Hop consciousness Black Youth

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Old School Rap Grandmaster Flash* Afrika Bambataa* etc.

Afro-centric Rapping Influences The Last Poets* Gil Scot Heron* Jayne Cortez, etc.

Introduction:

For the Young, Bold & Black on Both Sides To begin, we introduce Dante Smith, also known as Mos Def, a rap artist who champions hip-hop music and culture. Mos Def’s music falls within a category of rap that is considered socially and politically conscious hip-hop; this category may also be called alternative rap. His music might also be viewed as alternative rap because it falls alternative to the directly raunchy, thuggish or mundane sensabilities of gangsta rap, hardcore rap and “mainstream” pop-rap—and is often less commercialized.

Music Map According to the “All Music Guide to Hip-Hop” (2003, p.567), Mos Def’s alternative rap music, as well as every other hip-hop music, finds it influences in a musical core or path that may be traced in a musical diagram similar to the one as follows:

Alternative Rap The Roots* The Fugees*MOS DEF* etc.

Jazz Rap Digable Planets* Guru* The Roots* etc.

Afro-centrics/Native Tongues De La Soul* Queen Latifah* Black Sheep* etc.

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As we can see from the diagram, Mos Def’s music forms a relationship with “Afro-centric rapping influences,” “Old School rap,” “Afro-centrics/Native Tongues,” and “Jazz rap.” Mos Def samples and remembers these influences throughout his text, as part of a common practice in alternative rap of honoring and preserving history. For example, in the start of his first solo album, Mos Def quotes the Last Poets—mapped in the above diagram as “Afro-centric rapping influences;” he also begins another song, “Hip-Hop” by sampling Kurtis Blow—mapped in the diagram under “Old School Rap.” Now even though the diagram above maps Mos Def’s rap in strongest relation to “Afro-centric rapping influences,” “Old School Rap,” “Afro-centrics/Native Tongues,” and “Jazz Rap,” Mos Def’s music is “supported by a rich depth that comes from forays into reggae (as well as its aura of spiritual [and social] conscience), pop, soul, funk and even hardcore punk (e.g., his song, “Rock N Roll,” a dissection of white America’s history of appropriating black musical innovations)” (338) [my emphases]. Thus, we note that Mos Def employs varied uses of historical musical influences—from those on the above map to old school to reggae to “even hardcore punk.”

Most importantly, almost all of his uses reveal Mos Def’s relegation of them as ultimately “Black musical innovations,” often relevant to hip-hop. Therefore, although he employs a variety of musical styles, he is most interested in them through the lens of Black historical music influence. So, in his musical text, “Hip-Hop,” when he says [Blacks] “went from picking cotton [i.e., slavery] to chain gang line chopping/ to Be-Bopping/ to Hip-Hopping” (Mos Def, “Hip-Hop”) he expresses a specific interest in hip-hop via the trace of Black history.

In his song, “Rock-N-Roll,” when he says the following, he is appropriating the history of slavery and Black historical influence to the rock-n-roll music that many otherwise attribute to white musicians: My grandmomma was raised on a reservation My great-grandmomma was from a plantation They sang – songs for inspiration They sang – songs for relaxation …

I am … yes I am … the descendant …

Of those folks whose, backs got broke who, fell down inside the gunsmoke/ (Black people!)

Chains on their ankles and feet …/ builders of your street Tenders to your cotton money:/ I am … hip-hop …

I am … rock and roll / Elvis Presley ain’t [that] soul Chuck Berry is rock and roll Little Richard is rock and roll …

Bo Didley is rock and roll John Coltrane is rock and roll You may dig on the Rolling Stones/but they could never ever rock like Nina Simone (Mos Def, “Rock N Roll”) Mos Def’s writing of the former text called “Hip-Hop” in his solo album would reasonably inspire a writing of this song, called “Rock N Roll,” for the same Black historical reasons. Mos Def feels he must emphasize that the “soul” of rock-n-roll, is linked to the same soul

that inspired hip-hop. This “soul” seems necessarily grounded in the intimate styles of Black generations— from the slavery (i.e., his “great grandmomma’s”) generation who “sang” to ease their souls, to the “Berry” and “Coltrane” generations who rocked to release their souls, to contemporary generations who perform these musical histories intimate to Black predecessors and add hip-hop to the repertoire of Black music history.

While Mos Def pours lyrical, musical libations to ancestors of Black slavery—the extreme forerunners of hip-hop music—his appeal holds weight within a young generation of hip-hop. His reverence for and reference to historical influences run deep; however, his official entrance into the hip-hop limelight proves relatively recent.

Rap groups such as De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, and Brand Nubian—loosely known as the Native Tongue collective—had set a precedent years earlier [than Mos Def] for socially conscious, thoughtful rap music more likely to celebrate Afrocentricity than gangsta culture.

Yet, these artists had fallen out of favor as they aged. Mos Def, on the other hand, was young and charismatic, an apparently capable and willing heir. (337) [my emphasis].

For this reason, “the young and charismatic” Mos Def makes an interesting study for Black youth in relation to that socially conscious and “thoughtful” rap culture he currently succeeds. This essay analyzes mostly his first solo album, “Black on Both Sides,” released in 1999, as it speaks particularly to Black youth and consciousness. In this album, his assertion of ‘Blackness’ on ‘Both Sides’ seems striking.

What two sides is Mos Def referring to as being Black; to whom is he referring; to what does this Blackness belong? Considering his concern in this introduction with Black youth and music in relation to Black history and consciousness, we postulate that his album signals two important sides of Black youth. Being ‘Black’ on the first side refers to the racial characteristic and physical presence of Black youth in music history. Being ‘Black’ on the second side refers to having a conscious obligation towards the liberation and empowerment of the Black self, which has been statistically, racially and economically stifled throughout history to the present.

First Side:

The Physical Presence of Race in Hip-Hop In analyzing Mos Def’s album, “Black on Both Sides,” we stated that being “Black” on the first side refers to the racial characteristic and physical presence of Black youth in hip-hop history. We can locate this physical presence of Black youth in hip-hop history by turning to Mos Def’s odes to the Black slum.

In his song, “Brooklyn,” he says: “I’m from the slums that created the bass that thump back/… [I’m from…] the fourth largest, first hardest, Brooklyn …” Citing Brooklyn as “the fourth largest [city],” and seemingly the “first hardest—i.e., most severe—slum,” he later makes it clear that “nearly half of America’s largest cities is one-quarter Black.” (Mos Def, “Mathematics”) Therefore, his lyrics first provide a delineation of hiphop history within the specific context of slums. Then, his lyrics identify these slums—that created “the bass” in his music, i.e., the bass of hip-hop—as locales in “America’s largest cities.” Then, his lyrics recognize that these locales in these large cities contain a significant fraction of racially Black people. Ultimately, the slums in the largest cities, in which Blacks have the force of presence, serve as hip-hop’s home.

In his song, “Habitat,” Mos Def further characterizes Hip-Hop’s home as follows: We all got to have, a place where we come from This place that we come from is called home …

I come up in the street around some real wild brothers With more than one name and more than one baby mother More than one chase, been on more than one run Got more than one enemy and more than one gun … … these cats that’s less privileged is just more raw …

Less space cause the project’s laced with more flaws Less sleep cause the nights ain’t peace, it’s more war … …I been plenty of places in my life and time And regardless of where home is … home is mine Mos Def agrees that his home, the projects, the home of hip-hop, is characterized with “flaws,” with multiple “guns” and violence, with “less sleep” and “more war” on his Black “brothers” and sisters, some of whom are labeled as “baby mothers.” Yet, he asserts that regardless of the confined, oppressed “space” of this home, he has a particular allegiance to it, and to the “less privileged cats” who suffer its consequences.

We discover that the reason hip-hop is not without the presence of Black cats, i.e., Black urban youth, is because Black urban youth created hip-hop as a response to racial and economic oppression unique to their aforementioned home.

Hip-hop is a [Black] cultural form which attempts to negotiate the experiences of marginalization, brutally truncated opportunity and oppression within the cultural imperatives of [Black] history, identity and community. It is the tension between the cultural fractures produced by postindustrial oppression and the binding ties of Black cultural expressivity that sets the critical frame for the development of hip-hop. (Rose, 1994, p. 71) Here, Tricia Rose, like Mos Def, acknowledges the “binding ties” of Black expressivity, thereby supporting the linkages of Black history to Black music cultures. She also purports that the physical presence and marginalized experiences, e.g., “postindustrial oppression,” of Black communities sparked the creation of hip-hop.

Basically, “while city leaders and the popular press had literally and figuratively condemned [slum] neighborhoods and their inhabitants, their youngest [B]lack… residents answered back [through hip-hop]” (78). Similarly to the oppressed slaves in U.S. history cited by Mos Def in the introduction of this paper, who responded to oppression via “song for inspiration,” these Black youth “answered back” to oppression by rapping their whole selves, break-dancing justice to their bodies and complaining to the world via graffiti and gear.

Mos Def as a young hip-hop artist himself necessarily views his presence in hip-hop in connection to this young Black community. He respects the oral tradition of rap, the physical expression of break-dancing and the literary channel of graffiti as manifestations of Black youths response to oppression.

In reference to graffiti as a literary channel, for example, he notes: “All I can say Black/ there’s a city full of walls you can post complaints at.” (Mos Def, “Speed Law”). Here, he extends the lyrical voicing of Black oppression to the physical and literary environment of

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I speak at schools alot cause they say im intelligent / no its cause i’m dope / if I was wack I’d be irrelevent - Talib Kweli, “ The Beutiful Struggle”

T

o suggest that some of us romanticize our favorite conscious rappers— I’ve regularly referred to them as “celebrity Gramscians”— is an understatement.

Indeed, in our efforts to claim a little space in opposition to that heinous thing known as mainstream hip-hop, we’ve invested in these highbrow expectations about some of these cats (and femme felines) as if they didn’t get started in the first place just wanting to “rock the mic.”

So we look askance when the Roots back Jay-Z or totally ignore the fact that the video for Trick Daddy’s “I’m a Thug” might be the most sophisticated popular analysis of Black intra-racial class antagonism since Charles Fuller’s Pulitzer winning drama “A Soldier’s Story”. But as Talib Kweli explains on the title track of his release “The Beautiful Struggle,” “They call me the political rapper / Even after I tell them I don’t fuck with politics ... I’m on some KRS, Ice Cube, Chris Wallace shit / Main Source, De La S o u l , b u m p i n ’ ‘2Pacalypse Now’” — a not so subtle reminder that no matter what the content is, it’s always about the “love of the flow.” While The Beautiful Struggle celebrates the joy and pain of the everyday, it might also describe the travails of a righteous rapper who just wants to get his flow on.

As Talib Kweli’s “Get By” began to blare regularly on urban radio in the spring of 2003 — easily programmed between Mr. Kelly’s “Ignition (remix)” and Beyonce’s “Crazy in Love”— there was a real sense that he had made the leap from the conscious-rapper ghetto into the land of bankable commercial artist. Before that point, Kweli resisted the desire to be labeled, riffing on Me’Shell Ndegéocello’s “Hot Night” —”I feed my babies with music / I tell the truth, now I’m a target in their market. Ain’t that a sommabitch.” But given the critical and commercial success of 2002’s “Quality,” the stakes were decidedly different this time around. As Kweli reflects on “The Beautiful Struggle’s” lead single “I Try” (produced by Kanye, blessed by Lady Blige), “The label want a song about a bubbly life / I have trouble tryin’ to write some shit / To bang in the club through the night / When people suffer tonight.”

Some critics have reductively described the single as “Get By, Part II” (more a comment on the Kanye’s overexposure I think – the cat is all over the place and his production suffers because of it). For example, “Village Voice” reviewer Irin Carmon described “I Try” as a “poor choice for a flagship track.” Regardless, “I Try,” like its predecessor, has cats getting spiritual and cerebral (ebullient might be a good description) all up in the club and while rolling down the boulevard in the Escalade.

That Kweli is upbeat about “The Beautiful Struggle” suggests that at least he believes that he is making the kind of music he should make, no matter what critics think. Talking by phone from his Brooklyn home base, Kweli notes that the “reception has been different. I’m not getting the critical acclaim that I’m used to, but more than ever regular people on the street are coming up to me, telling me that they like this song or they like that song, and that never happened before.” For an artist whose work is so much about connecting with the people, this is a welcome turn: “Before I had all this critical acclaim, but no one knew what the fuck I was talking about. Now real people are reaching out to me and the music critics don’t get it.” When asked about the difference between The Beautiful Struggle and his previous work, Kweli’s response is surprisingly simple: “This album I tried to let the music decide what I was gonna write, instead of vice versa.”

While Kweli’s longtime partner Hi-Tek is in the mix, “The Beautiful Struggle” also features beats from certified hit-makers such as Just Blaze (“Never Been in Love”), the Neptunes (“Broken Glass”) and, of course, flavor of the moment, Kanye West. If there’s something to be learned

by Kweli’s production choices, it’s that today’s conscious rapper need not be boxed in like, say, KRS-One, who for much of his career was saddled with production that was clearly outclassed by his lyrics (save when he handed over the production reins to Primo). According to Kweli, “Some [music critics] are not prepared for some of the music I’m coming with. I think they underestimate my intentions. They think I’m doing certain things to appeal to the mainstream. I think they’re just now realizing what kind of artist I was.”

What we’ve always known about Talib Kweli, the artist, is that he is thoughtful, well-read, cerebral and committed to the best traditions of social justice. Of course, one of the great influences on Talib Kweli the person is his mother, professor Brenda Greene, who 25 Words . Beats . Life

By: Hadji Williams

Let’s face it: The MC battle format is rotted out. The circlesquare is busted and needs to be overhauled. But in order to do that, we need to rewind—take it back to the foundation of MC battling and ciphers and learn from the architects.

MC battling is actually rooted in the old “cutting contests” in which black jazz and blues musicians would gather afterhours and trade licks and riffs. It was part of the culture—it was how the old passed on tricks and often passed the baton to the young lions. … It was also a nice way to show the young folks that you still had it. (Folks like Jelly Roll Morton and Scott Joplin and even Dizzy Gillespie and Charlie Parker were notorious cutters.) Also, old black tap dancers used to gather in ciphers and trade dance steps in juke joints. In each case, the competition was healthy, based on respect, learning and communing with each other. It wasn’t about insults, slurs and making ridiculous threats. It was about growing as an artist and as an artist community.

But somehow, we lost track of all of that. Somehow, we’ve lost track of the artistry and the community. Somehow, we’ve turned battles into “who can ‘out-nigger’ who” contests. We’ve gotta fix this, for real.

Battles can be competitive without being degrading. MCs can battle without insulting each other. The notion that the only way to prove my mettle is to tear down the next man or woman for 16 bars/30 second clips, etc. is some crabsin-the-barrel/cockfighting nonsense. Think about it: How many songs did Billie Holiday waste trashing Bessie Smith?

Did Duke Ellington waste compositions destroying Count Basie or the Dorsey Brothers? Did Charlie Parker waste songs bashing Miles Davis or Buddy Rich? Do we ask Toby Keith to bash Alan Jackson or Tim McGraw? Do we ask Justin Timberlake to bash Avril Lavrigne? In fact, do we ask up-and-coming artists in any other genre or community to dedicate energy to insulting and degrading each other?

No. So why do we accept and expect this from hip-hop?

Word is life and today’s battles are just dances with death.

So going forward, I recommend that MC battles take on a new format—one comprised of four stages: Dome Shots, Pen vs. Pen, Beat Riding and Crowd Rocking.

In the freestyle stage, each contestant would pick a topic out of a hat or be assigned topics by the judges/crowd and then rip it. Dome Shots (a.k.a. Freestyling) isn’t about just coming off the top, but doing so with intelligence, articulation and purpose. By assigning topics and parameters, you bring out the best in artists and prevent them from relying on cursing and easy insults. In “Pen vs. Pen” MCs would spit their best written verses. Again, part of being a truly dope MC is being able to write and craft lyrics. Next, “Beat Riding:” MCs would be judged by their ability to ride beats of varying degrees of difficulty. (How many emcees have you heard who had nice lyrics but couldn’t ride a beat with a saddle and a seatbelt?) And finally, “Crowd Rocking.”

This stage is all about moving the crowd—stage presence, crowd interaction, etc. Anyone can sound hot in the booth, but when you have a mic a stage and a crowd of people challenging you to connect with them … that combined with great lyrics is the mark of a true MC. If you can’t move the crowd, then you’re just a rapper— and probably not a very good one.

Now granted, this proposed format would require battles to run longer and be more sophisticated than the trifling “playin’-the-dozens-to-a-beat” I’ve been stuck watching for the last 10 years, but so what. We need to step our game up.

We need to demand more of each other and start teaching younger MC that it is about more than clowning somebody’s gear, name-checking or ripping your competition for bringing written rhymes into a battle or a cipher.

In the end, battling should be a small but healthy and productive aspect of the culture, one that helps shape and strengthen our lyrical warriors for the real fight—the battle to uplift our culture and humanity at large, the fight to document our communities and heritage and, of course, the struggle to make beautiful music on our own terms. To allow battling to be used for anything else is to be stuck halfsteppin’…

And Kane already told y’all how that goes.

Hadji Williams is author of the new book, Knock The Hustle: How To Save Your Job And Your Life From Corporate America, hip-hop’s first success guide for business, culture and life. E-mail him: author@knockthehustle.com and get free excerpts, order info, etc. at: www.knockthehustle.com.

Q uestions: 1) What value do you see in battles, as they currently exist?

2) How could you relate battling to “bad man” or trickster tails?

3) What do you think of Hadji Williams contrasting of a rapper vs. an MC?

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So we are doing our next issues about the golden era of hip-hop, and we wanted to makes sure to include information about the development of hip-hop on the West Coast. We describe the golden era as 198695. So basically, what would we need to know about the development of hip-hop during that golden era on the West Coast?

What else would you feel we need to know, including that context you spoke about yesterday (at the 2005 Congressional Black Caucus Weekend in Washington, D.C.), including gang influence, the origins of these gangs and their relationship to hip-hop.

Davey D: Well, I think the main thing when you look at the golden era, if you start defining it from, 87-93, is when I think most people do it, you have within hip-hop always different generations or a class. So, for example, in the Bay area there was the class of, 87 -- digital underground, MC Hammer, Too Short was just getting signed. The first wave of people, E-40 and them, were all starting to come up and the independent game was just starting to kick in full gear. That’s a little bit different than what would have been going on in New York and other places because the generations would have been a little bit different, so in, 87, that is what I specifically remember. In the Bay area, because you can’t put the whole West Coast in one bubble, in particular, a lot of us were all starting to come into a more professional realm in the business. Short had been, for example, doing a bunch of house parties, [and] put out some independent albums.

I think he put out his first one, Short Dog Is in the House, it would have had to [have] been, 87-88 within that time period.

So he was just starting to get the national attention. I was just starting to do radio and was just starting to get national attention [because] of the newsletter. A number of us, Kevvie Kev from KVSU, myself, and the guys from KPOO, we all got together to form what is now knows as the Bay Area Hip-Hop Coalition. This is all around this time period.

Words. Beats. Life. Journal Staff: One of the reasons we wanted to interview you is because you are almost perfectly situated to talk about the golden era, having moved from New York to California. You have watched hip-hop grow on both coasts.

Davey D: Yeah. It was during this period that MC Hammer had just started to blow up in the Bay. Digital Underground, known as the Spice Regime, was trying to do their thing. Short had founded Dangerous Music around that time. Digital Underground

had a whole collective of artists. It was then, they hooked up with Money B and DJ Fuse who were in a separate group, Big Money Otis. Mod Squad was eventually, I think, the name of the group they all formed. Hammer, of course, had Ho Fri Ho and 357 at that time. Then there was all of us on radio that were starting to do things.

Don’t forget this is also when Sway and King Tech were starting to do stuff.

This moment in time represented an interesting convergence because what you had was a number of people who were influenced by hip-hop from New York, so they got into the beat street, the whole b-boying and that sort of thing.

Then you had a number of people who were influenced and extended the music from a funk kind of vibe.

So you can say one is from the street and the hoods and the other is from New York being picked up by different groups of people. At this time all these things started to come together. To a large degree, the radio stations played a critical role in maybe centralizing, though I don’t know, or I don’t think that was the intended goal.

That was the first era. Down in Los Angeles you started to have a separation from what would have been the hey day of the Egyptian Lovers, Uncle James Army, the Arabian Prince, all those guys who had been around since the 80s and you started to move in the direction where the NWAs were coming out.

You had more street-oriented stuff. I remember Ice Cube and Ren saying the whole up-tempo thing was kind of corny to them and was playing itself out. So to me, the street stuff, in terms of production, seemed to have more a New York influence. But the attitude and subject matter was definitely a West Coast thing. The difference between L.A. and the Bay is that the Bay is a hustling town. Meaning that in the Bay you’ve got people that’s all into mackin and pimping, and L.A. is more of a gangsta town.

The Bay is all about independent hustle and you know how you can beat the system and get over. You know, L.A. being a major market place was obviously gonna draw a lot of people in believing they could get signed but the Bay had a pretty good pull even in L.A. It had a pretty good pull in L.A. in the sense that a lot of people went the independent route there as well.

So I think 87 and that whole golden era signified a time of incense, and in a sense, by the time it ended that had already been shattered because of the music business that we had all entered into.

The thing that also highlights the golden era is the fact that at that time a lot of people also came into consciousness. They started to reflect that in their music. A lot of people, however, accused the West Coast of

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not being as conscious, even though you could find Digital Underground first songs definitely spoke to that. Hammer had conscious songs, Short even had conscious songs, you know, even though he was using the B word in a lot of his songs as well. One of the things that the Bay, that I think was separate from other parts of the country, was the beginning of what you might call the hip-hop activist movement. I was just talking with Boots (of the Coup). He was starting out around that time, too, and he started the Mao Mao Rhythm Collective, which was a few years ahead of KRS-One’s Edutainment thing.

The Mao Mao Rhythm Collective was bringing artists, activists and people concerned with science together. That was significant, but a lot of people did not talk about it. I was just talking to Boots the other day and he said that a lot of people that came out of that Mao Mao are still doing things today. Then you had folks like Muhammad Bilal, who most people know from the Real World, he was with a group called Midnight Voices. Around that time they had a thing called the Upper Room. Bilal’s father was actually a long time activist from the D.C./Va area, moved out to California and they brought the Upper Room to the Bay. It was probably one of the first clubs in the country that was non-alcoholic, brought everyone together under one roof from different generations.

This is significant because you might have KRS-One performing and the Last Poets performing. All this is happening in the same region that you have your Too Shorts and everybody else forming. That was significant. The Midnight Voices crowd and all that was different and maybe a little bit different in age than the street stuff that was happening, but if you look at a map, you can see that these things kind of branched off and came to fruition and gave birth to a lot of things you have around today.

So if you go back to Short selling records out of the trunk of his car and E-40 and all those guys, that’s the independent movement. That laid the groundwork for the Wu Tangs and every one else that came along after that. If you look at what was going on at the Upper Room at the same time in Oakland and San Francisco, you’ll see that that was the beginning of what we now call the hip-hop theatre and all that other aesthetic stuff. That whole bohemian, neosoul stuff, which was stating over there. At the same time when you go down to L.A., you have NWA jumping off; you also have around that time the jumping off of the Good Vice Café and Project Blow. That really came to redefine what freestyling was gonna be. You have Jurassic 5, Freestyle Fellowship …

Words. Beats. Life. Journal Staff: Wasn’t Medusa in that group?

Davey D: Medusa and all those people, right.

But at the same time when you really go back and talk to those cats in L.A. it wasn’t just a backpack thing. When you talk about back packers, you think of white boys with backpacks and that’s it. In L.A. that cat with a backpack had a gun for yo ass and that’s their whole thing. They was all from the hood. You got people like Peace, who was from Grape Street, straight gangstas. They were from that kind of environment, but decided that they wanted to do a different kind of music.

Since we are talking about that time period, I think we are talking about around, ‘93-’94 you started to have groups like Hieroglyphics, Casual and Living Legends.

All these guys started taking it to another level. This is another class, around, ‘93 and ‘94, so that became a whole other era unto itself. At that time the Bay was just diverse; you could find just about anything that you wanted and everyone was trying to do their thing and blow up on the radio. It was around this same time that we formed the Union, the Bay Area hip-hop association.

That was mostly about the record label, to make sure that they recognized us. The premise was that if an artist comes to town, they do everybody’s show, or they do nobody show. Everybody gets service or nobody’s gets service.

So it started off with us and then KSKO, which is San Jose State, joined us and they had a whole strip of shows like WPFW’s DeCipher, they were called the Underground.

We also started doing artists showcases, and Gavin Conventions were starting to take place in the Bay area. By ‘92, the Wake Up Show started airing. All these things were happening at the same time. That was all in the Bay. In L.A. you started having your NWAs but at the same time to have your Delicious Vinyl coming into fruition. You also had Tone Loc, Young MCs and Deff Jeff. They were beginning to lay the groundwork for what would be called Acid Jazz, the whole movement of funk and rare grooves. If you went to L.A. at this time you would see this scene emerging right along side what would become know as gangsta rap. I think L.A. was really going through transition. You also had some New York influences at that time as well. You had people like Curtis Blow, Wipple Wip and Waters of Bush. You also had a very active chapter of the Zulu Nation chapter down there. So L.A. was a bit more of a cross roads with the more funk-influenced L.A. sounds and because of the engagement of the New York crowd, you would have that, too.

Words. Beats. Life. Journal Staff: I have got to ask you to recount some of that history you shared after your panel at the CBC on Cointelpro. Specifically about the history of hip-hop coming right on the heels of the Black Power Movement. The international anti-colonial struggle and the development of the West Coast gangs being related to that. If I heard you correctly, the gangs might have been Cointelproed into

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An exerpt from the new book “Rakim Told Me” “A lot of money is given out for albums these days,” says Biz Markie. “But it wasn’t about money back then.

It was about integrity, and about being able to say: ‘Yo, my album is dope.’ That’s the reason that Goin’ Off is the top for me. The hunger was there, and the album had so many different elements to it.”

Rodriguez hooked me up with MC Shan, and when I went to Queensbridge to see Shan one day, he wasn’t home. I went into this park and started battling everybody and beatboxing, and I took everybody out. This is when Nas and Prodigy [of Mobb Deep] was like real little kids, way back.”

New-jacks who have come up in the rap world past the ‘90s have had it pretty easy, at least compared to their predecessors. Back in the ‘70s and ‘80s peeps had to pave their own way. And no one showed that more than the diabolical Biz Markie, who brought more humor to hip-hop than it had ever seen. He made heads laugh and dance, but he also made them see themselves. Biz was Everyman. The class clown. The guy in the corner who had to work harder to get heard.

Marley started knowing Biz’s name from then on out and from what he heard of Biz, Marley was also warming to his wacky but hard-to-ignore style. Biz’s real entrée into the Juice Crew world was through his work with Roxanne Shante: “In 1985 I was down with Shante. I was her beatboxer because Marley and Shante wasn’t getting along, so he wasn’t going out as a DJ for her. Plus he was on the radio [with Mr. Magic’s ‘Rapp Attack’] so he wasn’t going out to do shows. I would go out [to perform] with her and do all her records, just doing human beatboxing.” Biz’s first appearance on wax was on Shante’s Marley-produced “The Def Fresh Crew” single, released on Pop Art in 1986.

Biz Markie (born Marcel Hall) entered the world in 1964 in Harlem. His family moved to Brentwood, Long Island, (home to fellow hip-hop pioneers EPMD), at age 10, and a couple years later he began honing his MC skills in earnest. “I got turned on to rapping in like 1978 from people around my way in Brentwood,” he says.

“I’ve been beatboxing since I was a kid, but I started rapping in ’78. I was known as a rapper in Long Island, I had my own dances and stuff like that. I was in contests and doing parties. Uptown, Brooklyn, Long Island.

Anywhere I could get on.”

He continues: “I was always trying to get into crews.

One of the first ones I was in was from CI [Central Islip, Long Island] called Midnite Express. It was Kevin D, Rapper A, DJ Casper and Subie Gee. I was seeing live stuff in my area back then, but it was different. The Long Island sound was different than the New York [City] sound, definitely. When we did stuff, at that time it wasn’t about shows in clubs. We was doin’ house parties, school parties, center parties, going to Bayshore, Long Island, to do American Legion Halls. This was in the early ‘80s, when I was in 11th and 12th grade.”

Biz kept active on the party and battle scenes in New York City and Long Island all throughout the early 1980s. But as people who know his legend are aware, his big connection was with Marley Marl’s Juice Crew. Biz got in on the ground floor, first meeting the man in 1984.

He recalls: “I wanted to be down with Marley bad, all that time. I used to go up to Queensbridge [Projects] and sit out in front of Marley’s house for like 6, 7, 8 hours.

Then he’d tell me to come back tomorrow. My man Phil

Around the same time, Biz met another future Juice Crew rapper that he would have a long association with: Big Daddy Kane. Biz says: “I met Kane in 1984, in Brooklyn. Me and him battled in the street, in front of McQuarrie Mall. I was actually substitute teaching at Kane’s school back then, at Sarah J. Hale High School in Brooklyn. The kids was so crazy at that time. I was about 21, not much older than them. I wasn’t trying to be a teacher, I just had a whole bunch of different schemes back then [laughs]. Anything for a dollar.”

In ’86, after his work with Shante and after being down with Juice Crew members and showing his talent and determination, Biz got his first shot on wax: the Marley Marl-produced “Inhuman Orchestra” EP (Prism), which included the legendary tracks “Make The Music With Your Mouth, Biz” (with the song’s risible chorus hook sung in falsetto by his longtime friend, TJ Swan) and “The Biz Dance.” The EP was loose and goofy, showcasing Biz’s sense of humor as well as his rapping and unique beatboxing skills.

Biz describes his working relationship with the soon-tobe-legendary Marl: “Me and him made some great music together. I’d bring in a record and say: ‘Yo, can you do something with this?’ And he’d hook it up on the drum machine, put this in here, add this, bah bah bah and the beat is done. Marley taught me how to work in a studio and put a beat together. Everybody to this day thinks

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A Golden Era Indeed: The Thought Behind the Music By: Dr. Jared Ball

T

he Golden Era of hip-hop was also a golden era of sorts in scholarship. Just as the cultural expression that emerged as “hip-hop” had its own cultural ancestors, so too did the scholarship that would both become “Afrocentricity” and “hip-hop.” The cultural and academic heirs had emerged, the seeds had born further fruit. The late 80s Afrocentric culture manifesting as red, black and green paraphernalia, African medallions and pan-African/Black nationalist lyricism was itself buttressed by an attendant rise in Afrocentric scholarship. So too would a hip-hop scholarship emerge as a force, its leaders demonstrating the ultimate validity of the field. Any focus on the Golden Era needs to include a similar examination of what studies supported the consciousness in the music.

Coming in just before the Golden Era began, Manning Marable dropped an intellectual bomb, that while not quite Afrocentric was/is certainly Black-centered and so adeptly described the conditions out of which hiphop emerged. In “How Capitalism Underdeveloped Black America” (1983), Marable brought a strong Black socialist perspective to bear on the Black condition, fully explaining the structural blockages to genuine equality. His homage to Walter Rodney and “How Europe Underdeveloped Africa” (1972) was the perfect extension of its preceding thesis that a dialectic of development and a concomitant underdevelopment had to be recognized before being dealt with. Europe, and by extension white America, could not develop without the intended and necessary underdevelopment of Africa and Black America. Africa became the colony of Europe just as Black America had become an internal colony of Europe’s exaggerated exponent the United States.

In each case raw materials and labor were extracted with all residual benefits redounding to the colonizer.

In each case a colonial education, the “ideological apparatuses,” was established to perform the requisite 38

“cultural genocide” and instill within the colonized an overwhelming sense of inferiority and obeisance.

This was certainly a theme in James Spady and Jospeh D. Eure’s “Nation Conscious Rap” (1991). Part of reclaiming space for Africa to exist within the United States’ Black population is what propelled this work into existence. The book, a collection of interviews with many who are now legends, took the phrase “nation language” to acknowledge hip-hop’s connection linguistically to “the African model, the African aspect of our New World/Caribbean {Black American} heritage.” That Spady would have noticed this and involved himself is no accident. Spady was part of the burgeoning Afrocentric academic movement – itself an offshoot of the Black Power and Black Studies movements just preceding the Golden Era. John Henrik Clarke has said that these movements began on the slave ships as Africans found ways of circumventing differences in language and specifics of experience to develop pan-African strategies of emancipation. Among those strategies was study meant to reclaim a lineage for the purpose of propelling the collective toward return to freedom.

These movements began on slave ships, in secret meetings in the woods and would eventually lead to the establishment of extra-institutional study groups.

Beginning with the American Negro Academy in 1897 and culminating in the 1930s with the Edward Blyden Wilmot Society (renamed Harlem History Club), these groups would produce some of the finest scholars from Alexander Crummell to W.E.B. DuBois to Clarke himself. From these efforts would emerge the Golden Era powerhouse of Afrocentricity and its titular head Molefi Asante. Asante, though often criticized by Clarke and others for an apparent claim to having originated the field, has been instrumental in the popularization of Afrocentricity. First with “Afrocentricity” (1987) and then “The Afrocentric Idea” (1988), Asante outlined the theoretical and methodological basis of the field. By exposing the “Eurocentric ideology that masquerades as a universal view,” Asante centered African experience, making Kemet (Egypt) stand for the African world as Rome and Greece have stood for Europe.

Clarke would also publish and cause to be published many books that continue to carry heavy weight: “Notes for an African Revolution: Africans at the Crossroads”

(1991), “New Dimensions in African History” (1991),and “Who Betrayed the African Revolution” (1994) which both summarized the pre-Afrocentric historical rise of the field and laid guidelines for revolutionary change. How many people in the Afrocentric world refer to Cheikh Anta Diop? Simple, everyone. Few are aware that it was Clarke who brought the Wolof and French-speaking super scholar to an English-speaking audience. In 1991 it was Clarke who paved the way for the English printing of Diop’s “Civilization or Barbarism.” Few books have compiled the raw data in such an interdisciplinary way as Diop was able to do here. Diop helped pave the way for an understanding of the “imperialism {that}, like the prehistoric hunter, first killed the being spiritually and culturally, before trying to eliminate it physically.”

So much more would come in the era, including works from a veteran of the Harlem History Club, founder and alum, John G. Jackson. Following “Christianity Before Christ” (1985), which continues to stand among the finest texts unearthing Africa’s contribution to religion, mythology and spirituality, would come his monumental contribution in the form of “Introduction to African Civilizations” (1994). Jackson’s work would be mirrored by a man whose voice would later be heard in Public Enemy’s 1990 release “Fear of a Black Planet”, “the race that controls the past controls the living present and, therefore, the future” (“Contract on the World Love Jam”). Ivan Van Sertima, the Guyaneseborn scholar, had contributed greatly to the Afrocentric movement with his powerhouse book published in 1976, “They Came Before Columbus.” He would later do the same with a series of books including “African Presence in Early Europe” (1985) and “Egypt Revisited” (1989).

These edited anthologies included the finest scholarship of the time examining the African nature and origin of Kemet (Egypt) and the African influence on what would become known as European civilization. This would be buttressed by another Van Sertima and Diop disciple, Charles Finch, who followed, with more detail, these theses with “Echoes of the Old Darkland: Themes from the African Eden” (1991) in which he attempts to unpack the vast historical evidence connecting the major religions of the world to their African origins.

Out of this tradition would come waves of others, including former member of SNCC (The Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee), Marimba Ani. In 1992 she would publish what continues to be among the most prominent of the Afrocentric cannon, “Yurugu: An African-Centered Critique of European Cultural Thought and Behavior” with an introduction by John Henrik Clarke. Ani’s opening, “Bolekaja,” a Yoruba term meaning “come down let’s fight!”, remains a standard for hardcore introductions as it too remains a standard for academically flaying a foe. It is a blistering (and accurate) critique of what continues to stand in the way of “intellectual decolonization” needed for “the creation of successful political decolonization and cultural reconstruction strategies.”

And the burgeoning hip-hop scholarship took note of this intellectual decolonization. Two who are among the founders of the field now known as hip-hop scholarship are Tricia Rose and Robin Kelley. Rose’s “Black Noise”

(1994) continues to be among the most cited/referenced books written in the field and deservedly so. What many take for granted now is that hip-hop is a musical art form that continues to demonstrate its longevity in appeal. This has not always been the case. And certainly scholarship based on this once said to be “passing fad” owes much of its continued existence to the work of Rose and “Black Noise”. As she explained, the white mainstream press from The New Republic to The New York Times were touting the “hour” of rap that “has come and gone” or were describing rap as “the black music that isn’t.”

Rose expertly took them to task exposing their “Eurocentric notions of the terms of cultural progress.”

Similarly, Kelley had to apply his high-powered intellect (or his version of Jules “big brain on Brad…”) to state emphatically in defense of the art that “hip-hop … is music.”

His essay “Kickin’ Reality, Kickin’ Ballistics: Gangsta Rap and Postindustrial Los Angeles” (Race Rebels, 1994) exposed the under-girding sociopolitical and economic realities that both brought about an honest form of gangster rap designed to lyrically unearth the hardened realities facing these artists and the similar forces that would coopt that honesty and turn it into “nihilism for nihilism’s sake.”

Kelley was ahead of the curve in some ways in his ability to apply anti-colonial scholarship to the Black condition to predict the corruption of struggle-music.

What so many of us lament today in popular hip-hop – the overbearing violence and misogyny coupled with racial minstrelsy and the performance of white fantasies of Blackness – was held up and exposed by Kelley as part of this society’s mechanism for creating a “scapegoat for some very serious problems facing urban America.” This is no less true today given the relationship of Black popular image and the specific positioning of hip-hop as that image’s greatest medium.

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O

n a frozen, winter night , the corpse of a young man was pulled out of the frigid waters of Jamaica Bay in New York City. It was the body of a notorious graffiti writer named SANE. His cause of death, a three hundred foot fall from the bridge above.

SANE began making his mark on New York graffiti culture in the mid-eighties. He came of age during the golden era of rap music, at a time when the train graffiti popularized in films such as “Style Wars” and “Wild Style” was grinding to a halt.While most writers were painting for galleries or giving up in the face of staunch opposition from the M.T.A., SANE maintained a steady regimen of pieces on trains. When the train movement died out in early 1987, it seemed as though graffiti in New York would die as well.

While trains were painted after 1987 they rarely ran, thus the rewards of painting became limited for those who soldiered on during the lean years that followed.

One of those diehards was SANE. He, along with his brother SMITH, waged a campaign of destruction the likes of which New York had never seen.

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Where previously writers had focused on the trains and surrounding areas, SANE and his crew took over the city. Sending ripples through New York’s underground and sparking a fire that redefined the graffiti movement in its birth place.

He is regarded as a pioneer in the craft of street bombing. The competitive graffiti ritual of going all city, meaning to have your name written prominantly in every part of a city, numerous times. Although it would be unfair to dismiss the contributions of other dedicated writers of the era such as CLARK, KET, COPE2, GHOST and WEST it is safe to say that SANE and SMITH saved graffiti by leading it to a new canvas. It is for this reason that his name is celebrated worldwide, and his style is studied by students of the culture.

While SANE’s legacy will no doubt survive, thanks in part to SMITH who frequently paints his name in memorial. The tragic death of SANE on that cold night haunts the minds of all those who scale city walls and buildings in search of fame, and serves as a morbid reminder of our own frailty. Rest In Peace SANE.

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R2C2H2 (aka Ron Herd, II) is a Memphis painter who creates art motivated by his passions – love of art, music, and African American history. He has a highly original style that is visually bold and expressive. “I love to tell stories through the use of symbols. I think four of my biggest influences, Jacob Lawrence, El Creco, Miles Davis, and Paul Gaugin, have taught me that interesting stories can be told without the use of the written word,” says Herd.

Before creating a work, he researches the subject through the use of books, movies (documentaries), music, and discussions with people who are connected to the subject.“Artists are like synthesizers, taking in all foreign information and materials mixing it with the artist’s experiences and knowledge, and then compressing it into a product made in the artist’s likeness or image based on the artist’s own ideas and philosophies. All great art to me seems to be those works that have substance and tell unwritten as well as written stories that are retold and reinterpreted for years to come,” he says.

The artist is a private art instructor, and has extensive experience as an art educator. He received a bachelor of fine arts from Washington University in St. Louis, where his main areas of study included print making and drawing. He is the recipient of numerous awards, and has participated in exhibitions across the country. To bring Ron Herd’s exhibit to your community or university, contact him at rcherdii@yahoo.com or visit his official website at www.ther2c2h2.com.

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THUGIFIED DEITY 2001

NO JUSTICE, JUST US

JAZZSTRUMENTALIST 1999

CARIBBIAN LADY 1997

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Bomani Armah is a poet, songwriter, producer,

performer and educator. Born in Washington D.C. and raised in the metropolitan area, Bomani uses his life experiences, mixed with his musical and poetic skills, to paint lyrical pictures of life as he sees it and the future as he envisions it. He was an English major with a concentration in poetry at the University of Maryland College Park and as a self-taught musician and producer is quickly making a name for himself in the DC Metropolitan music scene.

He has featured/performed at such venues as the Nuyorican Poet’s Café (NY, NY), The Black Cat (DC), Karibu Books (MD), Bohemian Cavern (DC), Mangos (DC), The Market Five Gallery (DC), Art-O-Matic 2004 (DC), Tawes Theater (MD) Organic Soul Tuesday (Baltimore, MD). He is also an organizer and host of “Arts Under the Stars” at Sankofa Video & Books (DC), and ”Mwazi Wednesdays” at Café Mawonaj (DC).He has worked as a youth counselor for over three years at Martha’s Table Teen Program.

Bomani is a founding member of the DC hip-hop band Lauda, a member of the Blackout Arts Collective and Iota Phi Theta Fraternity, Inc. Bomani is also a consultant and youth facilitator for The National Council of Concerned Black Men. He has been published in magazines and journals such as Reality Magazine, and WB&L Journal. He released two EP’s in 2004, “The Hustle”

and “That Fire”.

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Laser vision Locked in Remote auto pilot “one o sixth and park” asses shakin tits jiggling negligee and swim wear get lost in the black abyss of cleavage Click “Sports Center” “De Dah Dah, De Dah Dah” How many homeruns Has Barry Bonds hit When facing an Asian born Left hander Who scratches his balls After every third pitch?

“5!! ”Correct!!

Click New HBO series “Real sex in a taxi cab” a critically acclaimed documentary featuring “Soprano” cast members having freaky sex in the back of a New Jersey taxi cab It should win an Emmy Or a People’s choice Or TV Guide Or MTV Or VH1 Or an NAACP Image Award Click “I’ll be there for you...”

Click

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MOST SLEPT ON By: Jason Nichols

Flawed rating systems, payola, and biased editorial revisions have tainted the album reviews in many hip-hop print publications and on websites. We at Words Beats & Life are dedicated to giving you our raw, uninfluenced (monetarily) opinions on albums, films and books. That being said, this is our opinion, and we do not expect you to agree with everything we declare. Our hope is that these reviews strike up conversations, healthy debate and reexamination of the albums mentioned in this section of the journal.

The reviews in this edition of the WB&L journal shed some light on great, yet unappreciated, albums that were recorded and released during a period that is recognized as the golden era of rap music (1986-1995 R.I.P). Being fans and products of that particular generation, we could have included any number of albums. We chose to steer clear of the obvious picks (Illmatic, The Chronic, Low End Theory, Only Built For Cuban Links), and remind you of the CDs and analog tapes that are buried deep in the shoebox in your closet.

Most of our selections had a big single that you may hear in an ‘old school mix’ from time to time, but the album itself has disappeared from public consciousness. In essence, our objective is to make young hip-hop fans discover what some of their favorite rappers/movie stars were doing before MTV took notice or the artists switched their styles to a more radiofriendly format. Also, to help them to understand the vibe of hip-hop during this era. However, for the old heads, we want to make you all say, “Oh, that’s right! That was my sh*%!”

Coast II Coast The West Coast is often recognized as the breeding ground for gangsta rap. The production usually characterized by its laid back, funk-influenced sound, which some have labeled “G-Funk.” However, the early 1990s saw an alternative rap music style develop from the land of swap meets, low riders and khaki suits. Tha Alkaholiks combined complicated rhyme schemes, witty punchlines and funny stories of drunken escapades on their second album, 1994’s “Coast II Coast”. It contains the hits “DAAAM” and “Next Level,” and features production that is a happy medium between the East and West coast trends of the period. “Coast II Coast” is a breath of fresh air among all other rap artists who take themselves too seriously. The album is pure entertainment from start to finish, void of grandiose street tales or heavy (yet underdeveloped) political poems.

Enta Da Stage The early 1990s marked an evolution in hip-hop. MC’s vocabularies seemed to grow exponentially and production grew more complex. It was no longer acceptable to take a familiar James Brown sample and simply loop it. Producers began “digging” for rare, less recognizable records to sample and craft into their latest masterpiece.

Synthetic drum sounds gave way to the texture of live percussion sampled from records.

No record marks this evolution more than Black Moon’s 1993 album Enta Da Stage.

Buckshots mysterious flow is complemented by DJ Evil Dee’s grimy, dark production, which arguably gave birth to the underground sound popularized by labels such as Def Jux and Rawkus. Classic songs include “Gotcha Open,” “Act like You Want It” and the incredible “Who Got The Props.” The album does include repetitive hooks being shouted into the microphone, but for some reason this formula works perfectly. Enta Da Stage is a must listen for the serious rap music fan and student.

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Black Reign Before Dana Owens was a lounge singer, actress or talk-show host, she was Queen.

Though it is common knowledge that she utilized the assistance of male ghostwriters during her rap career, Queen Latifah confronted issues such as patriarchy and sexist oppression. Her seminal work was 1994’s “Black Reign,” included the classic anthem “UNITY,” which expressed the collective consciousness between Black men and women that has enabled Black communities to survive for decades. Though she rhetorically asks “who you calling a bitch?” to disrespectful Black men, the reggae influenced refrain screams “love a black man from infinity to infinity.” “Just Another Day” was a relaxed song that makes one reflect on the days of the 10 cent icies and open water hydrants of Everyghetto, USA. “Black Reign” was the installment in Latifah’s career that propelled her to superstardom because of its conviction, sincerity and vulnerability. She was no longer the masculinized woman under the large African crown. She was intelligent, mature, beautiful and, most of all, she was Queen.

We Can’t Be Stopped Before Lil Jon and the Eastside Boys had the nation swept up into a frenzy called ‘crunk’ and Outkast crossed over with spacey yet soulful conscious flows, the South was represented by the pioneering Houston-based group, the Geto Boys. In 1991, the group released “We Can’t Be Stopped,” which featured the smash hit, “My Mind Is Playing Tricks On Me.” The album contained a blunt rawness one can only find in hip-hop. Bushwick Bill’s alter-ego Chuckie, for whom there is a song on the album, is the obvious precursor to horror-core rap, a short-lived phase where MCs told graphic and grotesque tales of unprovoked murder and mayhem. However, Bushwick also let his political views be known on “Fuck a War.” This conceptual album tackles a wide variety of subjects, some relevant to today’s political climate. Others need to be placed in historical context. “We Can’t Be Stopped” is a must-listen, if for nothing else than Scarface’s brilliantly poetic lyricism.

Jealous Ones Envy Fat Joe’s 1995 opus, “Jealous Ones Envy” is as gritty as the South Bronx neighborhood that served as its inspiration. The horror-core track “Watch Out” features a young, hungry Big Dog Punisher ripping the mic with the same venom that made “You Ain’t A Killer” and “Dream Shatterer” instant classics. The number one Boriqua on the set proves that he can trade lines with arguably some of rap’s all-time greats, as the album features guest spots by KRS-One and Wu Tang Clan’s Raekwon the Chef in his prime.

However, the album is biggest treats come during Joey Crack’s solo lyrical ventures. Songs like “Success,” “Part Deux” and the autobiographical “The Shit iz Real” demonstrate why Fat Joe, though not as lyrical as Big Pun, is one of the most respected MCs in the industry. His delivery has a conviction behind it, a believability that is paralleled only by the late Tupac Shakur.

Criminal Minded The 1986 Boogie Down Productions classic album “Criminal Minded” was obviously not recorded in studio with $100,000 monitors or Protools .wav files gleaming off of a Macintosh flat screen. The beats are minimal and the lyrical styles are straightforward.

However, there is beauty in the simplicity of this musical work of art. It contains the seminal diss tracks “South Bronx” and “The Bridge is Over,” which uses a reggae influenced flow not previously heard in hip-hop on a large scale. This album is also considered by many to have given birth to the genre we know as gangsta rap, paving the way for Snoop Dogg, NWA and 50 Cent.

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Amirah Tyler, 17, is a student at the Ohio State University majoring in Photojournalism and Visual Communication design. A native Washingtonian, she is an advocate for her city – especially in issues such as lowering the HIV infection rate among youth and using art to battle the prison industrial complex. She hopes to one day launch her own magazine.

Amirah is an avid hip-hop listener and hopes to learn enough about the culture to become a hip-hop historian. Amirah is also the first recipient of the Words Beats & Life and Sigma Sigma Sigma Chapter of Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity Inc. book scholarship.

T

he feeling of newness, spontaneity and rapture that held the early years of rap music has given way to a formulaic and repetitive representation of four generations of adolescents beginning in the late 60’s.

Now fully grown, many older hip-hop heads must only reminisce of days gone by, of “The Golden Era,” the beginning of national recognition for rap music. America watched this art form grow from an underground movement that simply “existed” to a massive culture that soon began to overtake the airwaves. Although the new urban sound was dominantly coming from New York City, many other major cities – Philadelphia, Washington D.C. and Los Angeles –had their own rap/ hip-hop scenes.

Although the two coasts and major cities had hip-hop scenes that varied in style, the artists were all coming from similar conditions and speaking about similar issues. These issues included sexism, racism, classism and the power of unity, especially with groups such as Public Enemy militantly telling hip-hoppers to fight the political powers that be. Since its birth in the late 1960s, hip-hop has been a force opposing the existing political power. Only in recent years have we seen major political support from well-known figures in the hip-hop community – a testimony to the success of hip-hop as an influential force in this nation. Major factors contributed to hip-hop gaining such influence in American culture and therefore American politics – from the beginning of its national recognition at the emergence of the Golden Years in 1986 through today.

One of the major factors in the progression of rap music from the underground to the mainstream was the role of the DJ, as well as the technology that was available.

Since the emergence of rap music, the DJ has been an integral part of the process – as the DJ accompanied the rapper in his/her performance (if that was the setting), integrating short segments of earlier recorded music in new and complex patterns.

Innovative DJs led the way. The sampler was the instrument that allowed DJs to get even more creative with their sound, while the turntables became more effective in a performance setting. As the mixing and recording 52

equipment advanced, there was less use of studio musicians and a larger need for DJs and producers.

The texture and techniques increased every year. Still, it was not viewed as mainstream when competing with other genres, but it was steadily maturing.

Technology was not the only factor in the evolution of rap music during the “Golden Era.” Also influential was the development of the artist’s relationship with record labels and, recording contracts. In general, at the beginning of the “Golden Era,” the notoriety that rap groups received was certainly not enough to buy the cars and jewelry we now see being worshipped. Even though gold chains and bamboo earrings were heavily flossed, the artists were still relatively broke. Few had “real money” to speak of and at the end of the day they relied on their raw talent. In the beginning, there was not a lot of money put into rap music although artists were on major labels. The labels saw no reason to invest money into their artists, because at the time, hiphop/rap was not considered marketable or long term.

Rappers during most of the “Golden Age” were not in it for the money, because at the time, there was not a lot of money to be made.

With rap music being the driving force behind the new urban American art form, the culture gained rules and standards, morals and ethics – as the artist had personality, originality and integrity. With so much that needed to be expressed at the time, there was unity, even among competing artists, because at the end of the day, it was all for fun. As a result, the artists were more heartfelt, able to be creative and honest with their audience. Rap audiences were not inundated with one sound. Artists such as KRS-One, MC Lyte and Leaders of the New School led early hip-hop heads to a new cultural and social awareness, while artists like Too Short, Ice-T and NWA were pioneers of the sound that is now dominant on the air waves. All rappers and aspects of hip-hop culture are well documented because it is an ‘art form.’ It documents itself. Classic albums, classic movies, such as Krush Groove and Wild Style, numerous music videos and, of course, live performances all capture the transition of rap music during its best years – during “The Golden Era”.

When interviewing three early hip-hop heads that have fond memories of the Golden Age, they made similar evaluations of the spirit of the hip-hop then, and the direction of hip-hop now. Interviewee A is a retired football player who now teaches high school gym. Interviewee B is a HIV Prevention Advocate among youth in the Washington, D.C. area. Interviewee C is a film maker, entrepreneur, artist and all around activist who recently moved into the Washington, D.C. area.

Below are portions of the interviews:

AT: What role does rap/hip-hop play in your life? What is its level of importance?

Interviewee A: Certain songs bring back memories of certain periods. I would say it’s really important. Like, a song will come on, and it will bring back memories of college, puberty, me tryna break dance in high school.

Interviewee B: It’s very important because it evokes the violence in me. Rap music comes from the soul. Back then, it was just rapping though. It wasn’t hip-hop and all that.

It was raw rapping.

AT: Do you think rap music is being exploited now? When do you think this started and how has it changed?

Interviewee A: Yes. It started when, like, vulgarity became more popular.

Interviewee B: It started when MC Hammer came out. It just became more commercialized.

You had people like Vanilla Ice and PM Dawn.

Interviewee C: It’s music I can relate to most of the time. I feel like rap is the spoken word of hip-hop. It’s the walking, talking and movement of the ex-slave.

Interviewee C: Every art form gets exploited when it becomes popular. That’s the nature of it … it happens to all art … it becomes popular culture and dies out. It becomes part of our accepted history. You can’t really get mad at the nature of the business and society.

AT: What’s your favorite year in rap’s history and why?

AT: What role has capitalism played in this?

Interviewee A: It would have to be 1988 to 1989 - the year I graduated from high school. The movie School Daze came out; Fat Boys concerts; Public Enemy. I remember trying to rock the high-top fade like Special Ed’s.

Interviewee A: Rappers allowed themselves to be exploited. For real, there needs to be industry education prior to getting it. Rappers are like the worker ant in all this.

Interviewee B: 1987. Boogie Down Productions.

Interviewee B: You know most people just want money. They put out whatever sells.

Interviewee C: 1988 because the art form wasn’t totally conscious. Not everybody knew how to be a rapper. It was new and had room to grow and develop. Now, there’s one way to do it and that’s it. In 1988, I was just coming into my own sense of freedom as an adult. The music made that connection to that freedom. I really connected with KRS-One because he was raw, smart but still street. Artists like Wu-Tang kinda carried on that tradition in the early 90s. 93 I think they came out.

Interviewee C: It’s doing its job.

AT: What is the album or record that really got you into rap/hip-hop, the one that got you on?

Interviewee A: Slick Rick, “Ladi Dadi”

AT: Where do you see rap going in the next 10 to 20 years?

Interviewee A: Its influenced so many generations. It’s just going to keep going. As long as the violence subsides, it’s gonna become larger and even more powerful.

The plan could be to let it kill itself off. But then of course there are lyricists of another capacity, such as Common, Outkast, Wyclef, Talib Kweli, that could take it in a whole different direction, if given the opportunity.

Interviewee B: It’s going downhill - probably non-existent. It’s turning R&B and is like fake gangsta rap. It seems like the younger rappers are just after money and the conscious ones are staying underground.

Interviewee B: “Criminal Minded,” BDP

Interviewee C: The same way jazz went, rock ‘n’ roll went. It’s gonna become a grandfather.

It will still be relevant to some people but it won’t be the hot new thing.

Interviewee C: Grand Master Flash and the Furious Five, “White Lines” AT: Why do you think, 86 - 95 is considered the Golden Age of rap music?

Interviewee A: It became more mainstream. It was used in soundtracks; there became award categories. Things became more money driven.

Questions:

Interviewee B: Artists were spitting more truthful lyrics.

Does the average rapper today make more money than the average rapper in the late 80s and early 90s?

Interviewee C: Every form of art has a golden age. When they’re actually artists driven, but eventually it becomes part of pop culture. After like, 93, everything was a remake. It lost its newness and got very commercial. Its rebel nature is what was appealing. Things that are considered rebellious often become popular – same thing with rock ‘n’ roll.

What were some of the options available to young Black males with low skills other than rap in the 1980s?

What level of importance would you attribute to DJs today?

Is commercialization equivalent to exploitation? Why/Why not?

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IE is committed to organizing communities to transform local and national media outlets by providing accurate information about the realities of the music industry.

• A $10 billion dollar per year hip-hop industry that claims to reflect Black life and culture, but 80 percent of it is consumed by whites.

•

Over 90 percent of radio stations, record labels, magazines, TV stations and retailers that disseminate hip-hop and associated products including music, clothes, movies, and games -- are white-owned.

•

Black teens ages 12-17 listen to more than 18 hours of radio per week on average, compared to 13.5 hours for all teens (Radio Advertising Bureau, 2002).

•

Thirty percent of Black teens are among the most frequent TV viewers (the top TV-viewing quintile) versus 21.1 percent of non-Black teens (Simmons Market Research Bureau Adult Fall 2002 and Teen 2002 National Consumer Surveys).

In an effort to raise the level of awareness of the hiphop non profit community, WB&L has chosen to create an organization profile to highlight the work being done in the non-profit community through the medium of hip-hop. Our first chosen organization is Industry Ears.

Industry Ears is a consortium of entertainment and broadcast industry professionals with more than 60 years of experience dedicated to revealing truth and promoting justice in media.

The founders of Industry Ears are committed to bridging the gap between consumer expectations and industry standards as defined by the Federal Communications Commission. IE does so by empowering individuals and communities by providing media literacy, media education, research and continuous dialogue with industry stakeholders, media experts, researchers, public officials and consumers.

Though it’s a fairly young organization, IE staff are working to become a policy-relevant organization established as a leading source of information on processes and procedures that will allow individuals to actively participate in creating change in media disparities. More than anything, IE is committed to transforming the level of control and influence exercised by community and individuals over public airwaves.

Unlike many “progressives,” the folks over at Industry Ears don’t want to make the media the bad guys, they want to find a balance between 50 Cent and Common. It is, in fact, the lack of balance they are most committed to changing in the music, media and the message.

In a nutshell, the music industry -- record labels, distribution, promotion, retail -- and broadcast media -TV and radio have become an oligopoly with a handful of organizations controlling what people see, hear and “know,” ultimately shaping the perceptions and behaviors of people watching, listening and learning. The folk over at IE see a connection between the music and media we are exposed to and the way we live in the world. IE is specifically committed to reform in the following five areas:

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TAKE ACTION

Listen Up. The Federal Communication Commission (FCC) states it is unlawful to broadcast indecent content between the hours of 6 am and 10 pm. Indecency is defined as depicting or describing sexually explicit or excretory activities. However, the number three most-played song on radio in 2003 was a song called, “Get Low” The songs chorus -- skeet, skeet, skeet -- means to ejaculate. It received over 200,000 spins across radio formats reaching over 500 million listeners. However, no broadcast stations or networks have been fined.

It is the view of IE that public airwaves should reflect the interests of the public they serve. Send a message to broadcasters and hold them accountable. The first step is to learn how to file a formal complaint, which must be filed with the FCC. Just calling the radio station, broadcast network or confronting the on-air talent is not the way to get their attention. The proper protocol is to file a complaint with the FCC. Let’s take back our airwaves.

Industry Ears has simplified the process with an electronic form. Visit the Industry Ears Web site to download a form at

http://www.industryears.org/ IE wants you to become a media justice advocate by: • Support low power community radio stations •

Don't turn the channel. Find out what young people are watching. We all have a responsibility to protect children.

•

Educate yourself- become media literate. Media Justice Report.

•

Sexually explicit and violent media messages

•

Perpetuation of stereotypes

•

•

Lack of non-white media ownership, non-white programming leadership

Understand media issues from definitions to policies - Free Press.

•

Translate the lyrics. What is the music saying?

•

Obscene and indecent broadcast violations

•

Payola

Visit the website for more details about each of these options. www.industryears.org

Published previously in “EAST of the RIVER”, SEPTEMBER 2005 NEIGHBORHOOD NEWS Section

Activists Challenge EOR Youth to Make the Medium Their Own BY: GABRIEL PACYNIAK

What is the difference between an MC and a rapper? Let Chris Freeman, 13, be your teacher. “Ok, see, like KRS One, he’s an MC. He understands the culture of hip hop,” says Freeman, referencing the groundbreaking performer who helped usher in rap in the 1980s. “Now Lil Jon, he’s just a rapper.”

Still need clarification? Chew on this koan from Freeman for the time being: “The difference between an MC and a rapper is the difference between a game come together and a game come apart.”

All of this young wisdom comes courtesy of the Urban Arts Academy, a free, bi-monthly youth program run by non-profit Words Beats & Life that takes place at the Benning Park Recreation Center. The program introduces young people to the traditional elements of hip-hop culture, encourages them to try their own hand at hip-hop art forms and challenges them to critically examine hip-hop culture. That’s not to say that Freeman or his fellow hip-hop heads at the Urban Arts Academy don’t still appreciate the famously obscene and infectious Lil Jon. “Look when I am ready to party, I am still going to put on some Lil Jon,” says Aja McNeil, 15, “but after some of these workshops [at the academy], I listen to music differently. I am not just listening to the grooves anymore—I am listening to the words too. I want to understand what it was that the artist was trying to do.”

Mazi Mutafa, the Executive Director of Words, Beats & Life, created the Urban Arts Academy out of a desire to bring some of the potent hip-hop activism from his alma mater, the University of Maryland, into East of the River Washington. “We did all of these hip-hop conferences at colleges and universities, and we were very successful, but one of the criticisms we always received was ‘What are you all doing out in the community? What are you

all doing with the young artists?’” he says. “So that is what the Urban Arts Academy is supposed to be, a bridge between the critical community that often sprouts up in the university and the young people who are actually creating the product.”

Participants in the academy don’t just sit around and listen - they do. The academy immerses young people into workshops such as MCing, DJing, graffiti, dancing, street fashion. The result is a history-packed tour through hip-hop culture where Mutafa and other instructors challenge young people to become producers themselves— and to recognize that as producers, they are also have control over the content of the art form.

“We want them to recognize that in hip-hop, they are producing cultural artifacts,” says Mutafa, “and as producers of cultural artifacts they are going to be subject to criticism.”

Mutafa knows of what he speaks—his organization also publishes an eponymous academic journal about hip-hop, which tackles issues such as global consumerism and the social significance of selling out. But while the program may have an academic pedigree, the emphasis is on fun. Where else do you get to hear about the history of graffiti, watch a contemporary artist show you the ropes and then take your own turn laying down paint on the walls of your local recreation center? Pilar Henderson, 17, did just that, taking part in a project that ended with a big mural in the Benning Park Recreation Center’s performance room. In another workshop, young writers took turns writing out, performing and producing their own raps for a District Department of Health-funded Public Service Announcement project that aimed to reduce youth violence.

The theme, chosen by young people, was “Expression is Rare. I Dare You.” Urban Arts Academy participant Haysoos dropped this rhyme into a 30 second audio spot: “My expression is a stronger weapon than aggression, no question/ testing you perception, never restin’ till I find direction/ I dare you/ to pay attention, learn a lesson/ ... pacing from lack of patience for latent racists and disciples of Ronald Reagan/ they can take funding from education, but they can’t take my expression/ over this mic that I’m caressin, I’m yellin, tellin’ people to explore like Magellan ... so best believe/my word beats the hype/ my words meets the mic, is words, beats and life.”

All of these hands-on workshops do more than educate.

They also help build confidence and encourage future artists to take that first big step. “When we did that first mural, I was like, ‘I can’t draw. I can’t do this.’ But by the end, I saw how it was done. I saw that I could do it,” explains Henderson.

One of the central points, explains Mutafa, is to help young people recognize that hip-hop is a creative art form with endless possibility for expression. Freeman remembers one of his favorite exercises was pairing up slain rapper Tupac Shakur’s lyrics with poetry of Langston Hughes. “That’s when you really see, that a rap is a poem set to a beat,” he says. There is no question that Mutafa hopes that his young scholars will become turned on to the “underground,” or to the more political and radical rap artists like KRS-1, Public Enemy or Common. But as he says, “we are not here to make you become someone else.

We are here to give you the resources to make you an educated consumer.” And the secret to a game come together? “Real MC’s speak the truth,” says Freeman. A game come apart is one that perpetuates illusions. To find out more about the Urban Arts Academy, call 202.667.1192 or visit www.wblinc.org.

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Speakers Presentations are provided by hip-hop scholars and practitioners as follows: •

“The Media of Change: The Impact of Global Media on Hip-Hop”

Dr Jared Ball This presentation discusses hip-hop within the context of the mass media and demonstrates how and why hip-hop has become the centerpiece helping to answer the fundamental questions. “How do we know what we know” and “why do we like what we like?”

•

Course Related WB&L Journal

“Thug Life: Tupac & Black Manhood in Popular Culture”

Jason Nichols This presentation deconstructs the primary influences and conditions under which masculinity and masculine expressions have evolved over hiphops 35-year history. Through textual evaluation of music, film and literature, Nichols demonstrates how hip-hop, and particularly rap music, is directly related to the embracing of or a rejection of other eras notions of Black masculinity.

Artist Showcases Verbal Resurrection MC Battle The WB&L Journal features scholarly reviews, essays, short stories, poetry, visual artists and photographers. A phenomenal supplement to any conference or symposium, the WB&L Journal allows university instructors to connect conference topics with existing class work. The WB&L Journal contains an eclectic set of contributions designed to inform the reader of the various ways hip hop has come “From the Streets to the University.”

Panel Discussions & Presentations Panel discussions and presentations engage participants in critical discussion around issues of popular culture as follows: 1. The Battle The early 90s saw the reemergence of the battle and the death of two of hip-hop’s greatest MCs, Tupac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. This panel discussion explores the nature of “battling” in hip-hop and its impact on the larger society.

2. Lyrics Language and Life: 3. The Great Pop Culture Debate:

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The Battle is a central part of hip-hop culture and we strive to embrace this. The Battle is a forum for local, commercial and underground MCs to prove their skills in front of an audience that decides the winner. In planning this event, WB&L will initiate a call for MCs on and around your campus to showcase local talent and bring in 6-10 MCs to showcase their skills.

This event is committed to showcasing the art of MCing for your students, faculty and staff.

The Sickness

Interactive Workshops Graffiti Workshop

The Writing on the Wall is a reflection of one of the newest phases in hip-hop’s growth as a visual art form. It takes iconic figures and portrays them in traditional and multiple formats. It includes images of Tupac Shakur, The Notorious B.I.G. and Outkast. This showcase is designed to help participants see the kind of visual art being innovated by hip hop artists. More than anything else, it is about helping participants to experience an “alternative” kind of hip-hop art. This event includes a meet and greet with an artist to talk one-on-one about his motivation and artistic direction.

This event is an opportunity for novice and advanced graffiti writers to hear a historical overview of graffiti writing. This workshop includes an opportunity to have some hands-on experience with the art of graffiti writing.

DJing Workshop

Where My Girls At?

Channel Zero is a series of 20 self-portrait photographs about the ritual of watching rap music videos. This series of 9” x 12” digital and Polaroid photographs illustrates a worship of videos. Eye Am Watching, a video triptych, comments on the relationship between receiver and transmitter established in Channel Zero. This session includes a meet and greet with the artist. The educational goal of this program is to encourage critical consumerism and active analysis of the music video as a media product. More than that, it is designed to help people evaluate the impact of music videos on the psyche of young women and men.

Ever wonder how DJs in your favorite clubs and on your favorite mix-tapes blend distinctly different songs and artists together as though the music was made to be played together?

This workshop offers novice and expert DJs the opportunity to learn something new or review already mastered skills on the ones& twos.

Service Project

These events promote and support socially responsive art that is responsive to the wants and needs of the community as a whole. This is an opportunity for students and faculty to participate in a brainstorming session that will result in their being active participants in painting a mural for the community.

This is an ideal event to partner with a local middle or high school for youth participation.

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