Hip-Hop Nation

  • THIS PAGE AND COVER: PHOTOGRAPHS FOR TIME BY KWAKU ALSTON; STYLING BY LISA MOSKO; MAKEUP BY ANITA GIBSON; HAIR BY VERONICA FLETCHER

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    We in the '90s
    And finally it's looking good
    Hip-hop took it to billions
    I knew we would.
    --Nas, We Will Survive

    All major modern musical forms with roots in the black community--jazz, rock, even gospel--faced criticism early on. Langston Hughes, in 1926, defended the blues and jazz from cultural critics. Hardcore rap has triumphed commercially, in part, because rap's aesthetic of sampling connects it closely to what is musically palatable. Some of the songs hard-core rappers sample are surprisingly mainstream. DMX raps about such subjects as having sex with bloody corpses. But one of his songs, I Can Feel It, is based on Phil Collins' easy-listening staple In the Air Tonight. Jay-Z's hit song Hard-Knock Life draws from the musical Annie. Tupac's Changes uses Bruce Hornsby. Silkk the Shocker samples the not-so-shocking Lionel Richie.

    The underlying message is this: the violence and misogyny and lustful materialism that characterize some rap songs are as deeply American as the hokey music that rappers appropriate. The fact is, this country was in love with outlaws and crime and violence long before hip-hop--think of Jesse James, and Bonnie and Clyde--and then think of the movie Bonnie and Clyde, as well as Scarface and the Godfather saga. In the movie You've Got Mail, Tom Hanks even refers to the Godfather trilogy as the perfect guide to life, the I-Ching for guys. Rappers seem to agree. Snoop Dogg's sophomore album was titled The Doggfather. Silkk the Shocker's new album is called Made Man. On his song Boomerang, Big Pun echoes James Cagney in White Heat, yelling, "Top of the world, Ma! Top of the world!"

    Corporate America's infatuation with rap has increased as the genre's political content has withered. Ice Cube's early songs attacked white racism; Ice-T sang about a Cop Killer; Public Enemy challenged listeners to "fight the power." But many newer acts such as DMX and Master P are focused almost entirely on pathologies within the black community. They rap about shooting other blacks but almost never about challenging governmental authority or encouraging social activism. "The stuff today is not revolutionary," says Bob Law, vice president of programming at WWRL, a black talk-radio station in New York City. "It's just, 'Give me a piece of the action.' "

    Hip-hop is getting a new push toward activism from an unlikely source--Beastie Boys. The white rap trio began as a Dionysian semiparody of hip-hop, rapping about parties, girls and beer. Today they are the founders and headliners of the Tibetan Freedom Concert, an annual concert that raises money for and awareness about human-rights issues in Tibet. Last week Beastie Boys, along with the hip-hop-charged hard-rock band Rage Against the Machine and the progressive rap duo Black Star, staged a controversial concert in New Jersey to raise money for the legal fees of Mumia Abu-Jamal, a black inmate on death row for killing a police officer. Says Beastie Boy Adam Yauch: "There's a tremendous amount of evidence that he didn't do it and he was a scapegoat."

    Yauch says rap's verbal texture makes it an ideal vessel to communicate ideas, whether satirical, personal or political. That isn't always a good thing."We've put out songs with lyrics in them that we thought people would think were funny, but they ended up having a lot of really negative effects on people. [Performers] need to be aware that when you're creating music it has a tremendous influence on society."

    Sitting in the conference room on the 24th floor of the Time & Life Building, Kool Herc thinks back to the start of rap with a mixture of fondness and sadness. He'd like to see rappers "recognize their power, in terms of politics and economics." Hip-hop has not made him powerful or rich. "I never looked at it like that," he says. "I was just having fun. It was like a hobby to me." But he would appreciate more recognition. When he calls local radio stations, looking for an extra ticket or two for a hip-hop show, he's often told there are none available--even for the father of the form. Still, he's planning a comeback. He's holding a talent contest later this year, and also hopes to record his first full album. Says Herc: "Respect is due."

    Friday night at Life, a dance club in lower Manhattan. Grandmaster Flash pulls the 11-p.m.-to-2-a.m. shift, and he's doing his thing. The Furious Five have long since broken up. Flash had drug problems, money problems and a court battle with his old record company, Sugar Hill, but he says today he has no ill will. He's the musical director on HBO's popular Chris Rock Show. And he's helping to develop a movie script about his life. "I was bitter a while back because I got into this for the love," says Flash. "I gave these people the biggest rap group of all time. But as long as there's a God, as long as I am physically able to do what I do--what I did--I can do it again."

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