Open up this month's issue of The Source, and a few pages in you will find what appears to be the beginning of an article or editorial piece - a page without any images or company emblems, only words upon a black background. Now, the first few pages of most magazines, before the editors' statements and letters from the readers, are generally devoted to advertising. But with the explosion of public service announcement organizations' use of advertising space as soapbox (e.g. the Truth campaign against cigarette smoking), I chose not to flip straight to the first article and instead see what this had to say:
"Welcome to us: the first alternative movement of the modern world. We inspired Picasso to break away, Elvis to rock and everyone to ride the A train. We were the first movement of the people and the first renaissance of American humanitarian thought. We were the first boycott of falsity and the first underground anything. We were the first to cause the majority to know shame. We were the first to make evident that inalienable rights are superior to privilege. Who would say that character is a matter of class, or intelligence a matter of race?"
As I continued to read through the first page, then the second, and onto the third, I thought, "This is wonderful! Is it an introduction to some new organization's ad campaign to inspire critical analysis of mainstream misconceptions about African-American cultural history?"
"We don't just talk, we rap. Right here, right now, the black experience tells it. It speaks to freedom, reminding everyone to persevere and live deeply, giving us progression, giving you humanity and everyone a higher hope."
Now, reading this out of context, it felt critical and honest, progressive and, though the ideas aren't new, potentially revolutionary - until I turned back to the last page and saw the Nissan symbol at the bottom.
Today, the pop star rite of passage is a collaboration with Ja Rule or a song produced by the Neptunes, and virtually every giant company, including Nissan, Coca-Cola, Pepsi and Gateway, has an ad campaign utilizing images from hip hop/spoken word culture in its portfolio. The use of urban culture to sell products leads us to discourse particularly about the state of hip hop and spoken word - but even more generally, about the fate of any subversive movements that utilize the arts (music, graffiti, etc.) to influence social change.
The Source was one of the first magazines to cater specifically to urban youth and hip hop culture and politics. It reminds us of its roots as a progressive publication outside of the mainstream with mainstays like "Ear to the Street: Media Watch"- a column that promotes critical analysis of media giants' reporting on hip hop - and "Graf Flix," an exhibit space for graffiti writers. The Source's very devotion to hip hop culture, from a time when hip hop was necessarily outside the mainstream, speaks to the political nature of its earlier times. Yet today within its pages, not only has advertising run over into editorial space, but the images represented in the ads have also come to look exactly like the photos within the articles. (Is Nelly really shirtless with the slogan 'Got Milk?' tattooed across his belly?) And so we begin: Why has hip hop culture been so thoroughly incorporated into the mainstream? And what will be the outcome?
In speaking with friends on these questions, I was told that a member of Stanford University's Pilipino American Student Union suggested that hip hop, rap and spoken word were particularly popular in the Philippines because as young people in one of the poorest nations in Southeast Asia, the Pilipinos can relate to the music. "It's just like being black," the Stanford student said. While it is easy to forget the original nature of hip hop, these glimpses into its meaning to disenfranchised youth in other parts of the world remind us that hip hop began as a voice for the marginalized American black youth.
In an interview regarding the history and present state of spoken word, Namira Earth, a poet featured in The Phoenix poetry series (formerly known as the Blue Roach) identifies this change. "Before, you had to go through Bambataa and the Zulu Nation to get into hip hop. Nowadays, you have to go through Columbia or Universal, Rawkus records. Hip hop was a major political stand and now it's Murda, Inc. It's all about destroying the movement."
Nonetheless, hip hop maintains the potential to influence and unite generations of fans. Young people across the globe could be listening to Mos Def rap about global warming and the commercialization of our natural resources in his song "New World Water." Yet, as long as hip hop is incorporated into the mainstream, and thus in an ideal market for the commercial recording and advertising industries, artists must challenge the depoliticization of their art. For example, Bob Marley spoke against imperialism and identified rioting as a logical response to economic disenfranchisement. But as long as his persona is popular within the mainstream, his legacy will remain politically neutral; as long as posters of Marley rolling a joint are the wall-hangings of choice for American college students, he will be remembered only for songs like "One Love," the theme song for a line of television commercials advertising Jamaican vacations, and not for his politics.
In its beginnings, mainstream culture said hip hop wouldn't last: Run DMC were pioneers in pop/rock/hip hop collaborations, and spoken word was largely local and community-based. Whether or not hip hop artists envisioned youth in Germany quoting Public Enemy and spoken word artists wanted to establish open mic nights across the globe, they did work to be the voices of a generation and a people.
They were reactions to mainstream society that were intended to reach many. But when the hip hop community declared that mainstream media was wrong about "gangsta" rap, when we proudly wore our pagers in defiance of their popular association with drug dealing, I doubt that we recognized that our efforts to un-demonize urban culture would result in a swing to the other end of the spectrum with hip hop as an undeniable influence in everything from music to television news commentary.
Now, I'm still in the process of trying to determine what exactly is responsible for the appropriation of hip hop from subversive, politically conscious communities into the mainstream, but media and advertising provide doorways through which we may begin raising questions and developing answers.
I read The Source consistently and watch a little bit too much television, and in the process I have seen the Black Eyed Peas rapping for Coke with a backdrop featuring pictures of Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday, Mya and Common performing for Coke as well, and Pepsi launching its new product, Pepsi Blue, with a commercial starring a spoken word artist performing a poem about soda, complete with metaphysical wordplay. The list goes on. My mind goes into full apocalypse mode when I witness an ad on Martin Luther King's birthday that draws on the history of African-American struggle through the arts to sell Nissan automobiles.
What needs to happen to recapture the essence of hip hop and spoken word is, on a very basic level, for artists to approach their work with integrity and hold other people in the community to that same level of responsibility. The examples are out there: Dead Prez and The Roots provide us with a foundation from which to rebuild a sociopolitically conscious hip hop community.
Ultimately, artist responsibility is simply the most obvious of responses to this dilemma, but on a larger scale, our society and culture must also, and always be questioned. So let's talk. Let's utilize forums like The Phoenix (formerly known as the Blue Roach) and Roc-the-Mic and spaces like the Mary Lou Williams Center to spread discussion. Write to The Chronicle letting them know that there is interest in these sorts of topics so that they may provide more spaces for discourse. What do you think?
Keep an eye out for a Recess-sponsored forum on this topic in the coming weeks.
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