Misunder'hood, discusses the bad stereotype hip-hop is receiving through various marketing strategies in the mainstream, and how, just as with any art-form, people instantly disregard the basis of a culture because the superficial face of it is controversial.
Stereotypes. For lack of a better word, they’re a real bugger. Now I’m not talking about prejudice, that’s much too harsh and politically in/un/decorrect. No, I mean the simple human nature to abbreviate, shorten, compact if you will. We turned Big Ben into a Rolex, The Pentagon into a Mac, and that Mac into an iPod.
It’s therefore only natural to start doing this to groups of society. Stereotypes, on the one hand, are actually your first point-of-call in cultural education. Its simple really, you learn the basics and get to grip with the details the more you learn, walk before you run. Provided you don’t get nabbed for inciting racial hatred, there’s a lot of good, clean comedy fun stemming from stereotypes, and even then it provides a point of learning for an otherwise ignorant audience.
Of course, on the other hand the same stereotypes are taken as points of difference and segregation. Lo and behold a minority of moronic individuals start to stamp their feet, shouting “No, miss, I don’t wanna learn today, don’t care or nuffin’ anyway”. Now, obviously you can see the road I’m venturing down here, and I just want to make absolutely clear –
this is not a discussion on racism. I think anyone with half a brain can pretty much decide that one for themselves.
This is about culture. And more specifically, hip-hop culture. Hip-hop. It’s a term that strikes a subtle fear into the hearts of upper/middle-class housewives and ‘core-values’ politicians alike. I say “culture”, you hear “music”. I say “rap”, you hear “gangster”. Basically, I just wanted to perform a little inner-ear surgery on the general population.
There’s a million-and-one published books, articles, features and, of course, songs detailing the rise and rise of hip-hop music to the behemoth as it stands today. From its birth as the party-hard lovechild of ‘60s and ‘70s soul, blues and funk during the early ‘70s, to the early ‘90s gangsta rap revolution and now as a highly eclectic art-form, as well as a chart-domineering presence. Yet the more and more I read these articles, the more I can’t help feeling this enormous sense of false guilt. It’s almost like we, as fans and followers of the culture, must somehow justify hip-hop’s stature in music history to the rest of the discerning public. I keep thinking, why must I beguile you with a dynasty of influences and heritage, just so you’ll even consider this a worthy art-form and cultural heavyweight?
The answer’s simple, I don’t. I don’t have to prove anything, its present status pretty much speaks for itself. But that doesn’t stop me going back to my original point about a little education. So, now we have a firm understanding over hip-hop’s roots, maybe I can go some way to releasing the stigmas associated with this culture once and for all.
As with all things, hip-hop has been and is being stereotyped. All the tiny facets have been clumped into one big blingin’ diamond. Of course, the good side of this is its ever-increasing popularity. But at what price does that come? The record-buying public are only exposed to that which comes out in the charts. The question as to what is marketable comes at the expense of creativity, and as such comes at the expense of mass opinion too.
Let’s take an example from the blanket ban enforced over youth in hooded tops. Personally I love my hoodies. I’m 24, I don’t hang around shopping centres or broadcast beating-up tourists over my camera-phone. At the very least my hoody provides an excellent makeshift woolly hat in times of desperation. Yet people still seem to draw a wide berth as they pass on the street like some wild lion was bounding towards them. Ironically, much like a wild lion, you don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.
This feeling of animosity has been broadcast over the general media and portrayed the ‘urban youth’ (oh how that phrase grates my head) as this mass army of delinquents with nothing better to do than to happy-slap your sorry behind back to Buckinghamshire. This, of course, is not true. Sure there’s a small section of misguided kids bringing the 16-24 age bracket into disrepute, but for the most part we’re just minding our own business, listening to hip-hop on our mini-Pentagons.
Nobody likes to be tarred with the same brush. Whether you’re Jewish or Muslim, Goth or Skater, hip-hop or alternative rock listener. There’s a blanket stereotype but that’s where it ends, and only means to further you into learning a little and accepting, if acceptance
is the ultimate goal. I guess cynics would argue this is pretty much impossible given the size and diversity of society, and that a level of acceptance is about as far as you can get.
Hip-hop’s brush has dipped into the seedy and highly lucrative pots of violence and sex. The arrival of gangsta rap in the early ‘90s with groups such as NWA and Public Enemy taking some full swings at the police and the establishment was a revolution of sorts. These were pioneers of an outspoken modern culture, similar aspects of which were seen back in the ‘Summer of Love’ days of the late 1960s. Freedom of speech at its very rawest and provocative form. But this was provocation with reason. The problem is that this legacy seems somewhat distorted now.
Again, the record-buying general public are aware of this history, it’s roots. However, with the inclusion of sex and violence in mainstream hip-hop as if it were
de rigueur, nobody stopped to assess why the gangsta rap revolution was so poignant. A genuine rage against the system had been building. Today we attack Tony Blair
et al as if it were the next craze in rubber armbands.
The problem is, to those who can’t generally be bothered to delve any deeper, which is all of us in some small way, the moniker of ‘violence’ is engrained onto every hip-hop record we hear. The revolutionary image of yesteryear has been manipulated into a marketable fantasy in many cases. These are the ones that sell records, these are the ones you’re exposed to, and these are exactly the ones that are bringing down the image of hip-hop culture.
Ironically, the ‘paint-brush’ adage is a little closer to home than first implied. Graffiti is as integral to hip-hop culture as the music itself. The average Joe visualises only vandalism, South London Tube carriages and ASBOs. Again, the tarnish created by one bored kid and his black marker pen has brought the whole art-form into disrepute. ‘Taggers’ are not graffiti artists, and yet fall under the same stigma-laden canopy. The average graffiti artist has a respect for his or her community, and that respect is reflected in the artwork, however, the stereotype has caused anyone putting spray-can to breeze-block to be instantly villianised. A classic case of guilty until proven innocent.
The hip-hop underground was part built on sampling. To take an inspirational piece of music and instil that same elation in your own fans, in your own style, is something of greats and with wide-reaching potential.
Break
dancing as an expressive medium has brought us athleticism that could rival Olympic gymnastics. Free flowing moves and the absolute freedom to express yourself and exert so much raw confidence is something quite unique. To watch breakers ‘battle’ is an incredible and spectacular affair to say the very least.
The practise of rapping has inspired modern poets. Forget the cars, guns and girls, these are just attributes that sell, and sell well mind. I’m talking about real lyricism. Eminem, despite being now one of the most powerful men in music, did well at the start of his career to raise the bar for lyricists. This level of complexity in rhymes was well documented before his time, but did anyone else notice how the public opinion quickly shifted at the time? As soon as someone with real strong lyrical ability was sky-rocketed into the limelight that people suddenly started cottoning on to the fact that maybe, just maybe, there was deeper and more complex bedrock that this culture had been built on?
One critically acclaimed underground artist from Minnesota, by the name of Brother Ali, once penned the words:
There’s 3 million ways to stretch words around beats...
And 6 million rappers are using the same three.
This is the kind of attitude we’re experiencing in today’s hip-hop world. The front-runners are always striving to create, to inspire. And they themselves resent the fact this is overshadowed by unimaginative drivel. But the average man would never know this. Underground sensation Immortal Technique, famed for his extremely outspoken political lyricism, is a perfect example. Here is a man, having been offered thousands for a major-label record deal, who continues to shun the mainstream limelight in favour of using his independent pulpit to put across his views, and to great success as well. Indeed, it sometimes verges on conspiracy theory and you may not agree with what he’s saying in parts, but boy am I thankful he has the chance to ask those question in the first place. More importantly, there are very few platforms and mediums left where this sort of direct and aggressive form of debate can take place, and be heard.
Mother always told us “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover”. Well, what if that wasn’t a cover, but several reams of wrapping paper? It’s a gift, but no-one wants to recognise the artists as gifted. If all you see is what others want you to see, then of course this is going to filter on to many others until the image is irreversibly damaged. The record companies want you to see the violence and the sex because it sells. There are plenty of hip-hop ‘dance anthems’ that serve well in their intent. But the entertainment value (high though it may be) really is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s a crystal-encrusted, glistening and lavish iceberg on the outside at that, but there’s a deep and solid bedrock underneath, untamed uneroded and unpublicised. It’s a hidden, lurking wolf, so please people, do look before you follow sheep.
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J~Bright
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The Brother Ali quote is from "When The Beat Comes
In" on Shadows on the Sun LP.
Misunder'hood