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In the years that Rock was on SNL, 1990-93, the show was loaded with future superstars: Adam Sandler, David Spade, Mike Myers. Rock found it hard to get airtime, difficult to get SNL's mostly white writing staff to put him in sketches or understand where he was coming from creatively. He quit SNL in 1993 to join Fox's mostly black comedy show In Living Color--only to see it go off the air the next year. His career began to slide.
So in 1996 Rock and Joyner hit the road. Rock was interested in playing smaller stages, black clubs. He wanted to reconnect to audiences, to the street-level reality that had made his act funny to begin with. The result was Bring the Pain, his landmark HBO special. "He opened up his material, and it allowed a larger audience to be receptive to it," says Tim Meadows, a fellow SNL cast member. "Chris started talking about things onstage that he talked about in personal life--social and political issues."
The show's title came from a song by rapper Method Man; the show's spirit came from hip-hop too. Rock, dressed in black, stalked the stage, barking jokes in a rough cadence somewhere between a Baptist preacher and RUN-D.M.C. Like a hip-hop deejay, Rock sampled the personas of the comic greats he admired--Gregory's political smarts, Richard Pryor's scatological eloquence, Allen's nebbishy charm--and mixed them into something new. "I'm a rap comedian the same way Bill Cosby is a jazz comedian," says Rock. "Cosby's laid back. I'm like, bang, bang bang, right into it."
The material was angry, real, so funny it hurt. Colin Powell will never be Vice President, Rock cracked, because white people know what will happen: "If we had a black Vice President right now, I couldn't wait to kill the President." He argued that O.J. Simpson got off because of his fame, not his skin color: "If O.J. drove a bus, he wouldn't even be O.J.--he'd have been Orenthal the bus-driving murderer."
But Bring the Pain's most talked-about bit was Rock's searing riff on "black people vs. niggas." It was a caustic comic commentary that contrasted the values of upwardly mobile blacks with those who had given in to a kind of gangsta nihilism. "There's like a civil war going on with black people," Rock declared. "There are two sides: there's black people, and there's niggas. And niggas have got to go." Niggas, in Rock's view, were a source of ignorance, violence, family dysfunction. It was a riff that resembled traditional stand-up comedy in the way that an open wound sometimes resembles a smile.
"The taboo he shattered was exposing the secret, closeted discourse among black Americans about their own," says cultural critic Michael Eric Dyson. "Rock signifies an unwillingness among the younger black generation to abide by the dirty-laundry theory. That theory suggests you don't say anything self-critical or negative about black people where white people can hear it. But the hip-hop generation believes in making money off the publication of private pain and agony."
The bit could have been seen as a sellout: the mainstream press suddenly embraced Rock as a tough-talking truth teller, unafraid to critique his own race. Says hip-hop mogul Russell Simmons, an early fan of Rock's: "The white media chose pieces of Rock's performance that made them feel comfortable, and they wrote about it and they loved him."