New Music vs. Old Music, pt. 2: “A Story Of Black Excellence” (Article)

What up one & all. Sky Bento here on the check-in once again. Big Bento Energy is most definitely in full effect. Hope you & yours are doing good & well. Drinking water, protecting your mental health, knowing the vibes & all.

I haven’t. Lol. I’m human. I’ve really been trying though, and it’s starting to work. Finally. But one of my favorite self care practices of the past month has been engaging in Gary Suarez’s MWE hashtag on Twitter, where music fans and journalists alike listen to an album they’ve never heard before every day throughout the month of February. And wouldn’t you know it, it’s Black History Month. So I’ve specifically chosen albums from my people. I’ve really been blown away by music from all over the diaspora and while I’ve largely listened to genres outside of hip-hop, I couldn’t help but be proud of how far hip-hop culture has come to not only take influence from these other sounds and genres. Last month we specifically went over how different music means different things to different people. If you follow the way the culture and genre have grown, it really paints a beautiful picture of just how far we’ve come as a people. So let’s take it back to the very beginning.

You love to hear the story. It was Kool Herc’s “Back To School Jam” held at 1520 Sedgwick Ave on August 11th, 1973. That’s right, hip-hop is a leo. As we all know it, back then we ain’t really have sh*t but we made the most of it. So the genre itself was born out of sampling other popular records, specifically looping up the drum breaks which tended to get the best reaction. New styles of dance were created to accompany these drum breaks, but as we all know it the part that really impacted pop culture as a whole was the act of MCing. As the God MC Rakim once put it, MC means Move the Crowd. MC’s (or Master of Ceremonies) began by performing like an event host would do today, just keeping the vibes flowing and getting the crowd hype. Over time this evolved to include signature chants and eventually, ice cold rhymes. This art form slowly began to take center stage and eventually even replaced the DJ as the primary source of entertainment at hip-hop events and when listening to hip-hop music. Oh yeah, there was actual hip-hop music now. MCs were recording actual music using this style. Sh*t is crazy son. MCs would typically talk simply about how dope they were beyond just encouraging partygoers to... well, party.

So as it always goes in our community, some white folks stepped in and figured they could take this to a professional level and make some money off of it. Rap acts began getting signed to record labels, and none were bigger at the time than the Sugarhill Gang, who’s breakout hit “Rapper’s Delight” is widely credited as the first hit record in hip-hop history. At this time, rap was still mainly party music. This reflected the times, as most popular Black music in general up until this point were inoffensive and sugary sweet. We were living in hell, why did we want to hear songs about it too? Popular music was escapism. This is to take nothing from artists like Nina Simone who put their pain and disgust with the status quo into their music. But we went to the parties to feel like everything was alright, even if just for a moment.

This would all soon change with three famous words: broken glass everywhere. With the arrival of Grandmaster Flash & The Furious 5’s “The Message” we now had a party song that reflected the ugly truth of our horrific circumstances. This was the genesis of reality rap, putting us on a trajectory to keep it realer than ever before. Rap had expanded beyond dance music. It could have substance now. Thus we travel through the 80’s with MC’s trying to both alleviate us of our stress, and educate us about it. From teachers like KRS-One, to smooth lady-killers like Big Daddy Kane, to almighty technicians like the aforementioned Rakim, there were a variety of styles. But there stood two groups who took the mantle of reality rap to a new plateau - NWA & Public Enemy. Public Enemy were militant and political. They dealt with the issues of our realities on a grander scale. On the other side of the coin, NWA were basically fed up news reporters from Compton, California. They just told us how it is and how it felt.

The ripple effect of NWA went way beyond just reality rap though. Rap was born and raised in New York, but these kids from Compton just came through and shook things up so wildly that we couldn’t help but keep our eyes peeled for what else the golden coast had to offer. The image of a rapper was no longer limited to the cold ghettos of the East Coast. So as this new breed of reality rap - dis-affectionately dubbed “gangsta rap” by its detractors before being adopted like the word nigga - made its way to taking over party soundtracks, it naturally reshaped itself to reflect this new environment. Enter the 90’s with Dr. Dre’s new sound, G-Funk. Specifically constructed to reflect West Coast tastes, it was syrupy smooth and cinematic at the same time. But the raps remained raw, reflective of real world conditions. Just like South Central L.A. itself, it provided a glimpse into Hollywood without actually being Hollywood. Rappers were making real money now. Rap was changing lives. More than a hustle, it was a career option. Rap got bigger, flashier, and more expressive than ever before.

Throughout the 90’s, rap continued to grow both gritter and more glamorous at the same time. But the technical art of rap had evolved so far beyond where it had started. This of course reflected the Black experience as we begin to see more and more representation of ourselves on our televisions, magazines, in movie theaters and more. Black heroes were much more prominent in the public consciousness. Rappers were idols to Black youth. Superheroes even. Like a character on the silver screen, many rappers adopted larger than life personas which fed into this even more. Some would flex their vocabulary, others their voice and distinctive flow. There was a place for all of this. It all began to come together toward the mid-90’s. We tend to call this the jiggy era or the shiny suit era. Particularly after the deaths of two of hip-hop’s biggest stars in 2Pac & The Notorious B.I.G., rap had turned to celebration rather than mourning. The bleek became the bright. It was time to party and not focus on the real world so much. The pendulum swings.

The turn of the new millennium arrives, and you could find us in da club. As G-Funk faded out, New York began to get the crown back shortly with the invention of a new kind of club banger. Rappers still rapped about escaping poverty to living the good life surrounded by bottles and models and designer clothes and fancy cars. But the beats got progressively more aggressive. In a way this also reflected the turbulent times we were still experiencing as Black people in America under the presidency of George W. Bush and with two of our biggest stars dead. There was plenty of thought provoking rap around this time tackling politics and more serious subject matter such as the traumas of street life. Jay Z (New York’s next heir to Biggie’s throne) thrived off of making thought provoking rap and balancing it with tales of the good life that he escaped the streets to. But at this point, mainstream rap was pretty much all gangsta rap. When you thought of a rapper between 1998 and 2004, you thought of a gangsta rapper like 50 Cent.

This continued until one day a young producer woke up with something on his mind, a creative way to rhyme without using 9’s and guns. Kanye West’s debut album “The College Dropout” fought to bridge the gap between the streets and the backpackers. But moreover, Kanye was just honest. There was no facade, no larger than life character, nothing but a flawed human being with a lion’s share of confidence. This point of view allowed him to take on subjects such as racism and poverty, while also dabbling into the desire for designer brands the names of which he could not pronounce. It was a very human take on rap which had a ripple effect we wouldn’t see until years later. Rap was still run by the streets and since it took over the clubs in a very rowdy way, the South’s crunk scene naturally took over public consciousness. Lil Jon & The Eastside Boyz held the crown as the Atlanta hit-makers that everybody across the country (Black or white) were aware of, and imitating. On this detour down South, rap had been simplified. This almost mimicked the party rap of the 80’s, only much more aggressive. It was if this time we weren’t partying to escape reality, we were partying to lash out all the pent up anger we had about society.

As rap got simpler and more club driven, one rapper took simple to the most complex place it could go. Lil Wayne’s wordplay and out of this world demeanor had EVERYBODY mimicking him. The non-sequitur punchlines, the autotune, it all came together to create a martian of a rapper. There was absolutely nothing human about this man at his peak. It was pure escapism, pure super-heroism, pure creativity. He was a rapper’s rapper for rapping’s sake. Rap was his escape from reality, and his reality. He WAS hip-hop. And as much as all rappers adopted the rhyme patterns and punchline styles, there was still a desire for something more down to earth. This is when Kanye’s ripple effect came full circle. The 2000’s ended with Kid Cudi, Drake & Wale smiling alongside one another in GQ, labeled as “gangsta killers” for their poetic showcase of their emotions and vulnerability. Sharing Lil Wayne’s love for rapping for rapping’s sake, the new breed of rappers that emerged throughout the early 2010’s were just happy to get their sh*t off. We had a Black president. We as Black people were in a place of relative comfort. It was okay to be yourself and do the things you wanted to do. We finally began to feel like we could enjoy the freedom that white people have always had here in America.

Consciousness became cool again with the rise of J. Cole and Kendrick Lamar, two of the biggest superstars rap has even seen. But with this consciousness came the hard truth, things were not all they were cracked up to be. We couldn’t act like everything was all gravy any more. Mental illness became a prominent topic. Deeper dives into the trauma associated with poverty and street life were made more palatable with the rise of autotune (again largely thanks to Lil Wayne & Kanye) allowing artists to express their emotions in new ways beyond explicit statement. But through it all, gangsta rap somehow emerged from the ashes with this new sauce and became the most popular type of music on the planet. The emotional, melodic trap associated with artists like Future, Young Thug & Lil Uzi Vert made rap so ubiquitous that it’s no longer a genre or a culture, but a part of history now.

What started as a back to school party for the youth has fed millions of families, kept people out of jail, started businesses, created jobs, saved lives, and more. And it came from stealing pre-existing music. It came from a desire to make something out of nothing, and that same desire continues today. The new breed of rappers are taking their most painful life experiences and creating beautiful art with it. Thought provoking or otherwise, people are connecting with it. People are ripping it off just like in the old days. The music has gotten easier to create, all you have to is be a human being with a functioning brain and maybe a couple of emotions that you could tap into. Hip-hop has evolved far past where anybody ever guessed it would go, especially with the advent of the internet and social media. No matter how removed it may feel from it’s roots, ever step it goes further is just a testament to the excellence of the forefathers of the culture. And THAT is not just Black history, it’s Black excellence.