The terms “hip-hop” and “rap” are often thrown around interchangeably, thought of as two sides of the same coin. In recent years, however, a rising number of listeners and artists have emerged to criticize this marrying of terms in public discourse. They suggest that popular “rap” today is commercially successful because its largely white audiences are drawn to and readily consume representations of “black culture” that rely on minstrel imagery and characterization, recycled and transformed over the years in mainstream entertainment. Under a veil of invented authenticity, this characterization floods popular venues and the subconscious of rap’s audiences with false representations of black culture. This saturations is made possible by the vast amounts of money record companies and producers pump into distribution and production that brands these images as “authentic.” In order to invent that authenticity, they rely on the public’s conflation of “hip-hop,” which encompasses a diverse community of people committed to true cultural expression, and rap, which relies on mass consumption of one dimensional characters and often misogynistic, violent, and materialistic lyrics. In “Gangster Rap and Its Social Cost,” Benjamin Bowser argues that “hip-hop and gansta rap are diametric opposites in philosophy, values, and approach,” and condemns the latter for the negative effect its minstrel imagery has on society’s perception of black culture in its entirety. “Hip-hop” he argues, comes from a place of communal creative energy, a place dedicated to collaboration and emotional expression, and that is depreciated by commercial rap.
A contemporary example of a hip-hop group (hip-hop by Bowser’s definition openly expressing this opinion can be found in Little Brother’s 2005 album, “The Minstrel Show.” It’s a fictional variety show on the UBN (U Black N****s) complete with interludes, skits, sounds effects, and a voiceover by Chris Hardwick, the “host.” These sounds, along with the cover art (pictured below), are reminiscent of Bandstand.
listen to “Welcome to the Minstrel Show” (Track 1):
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7Y2AQzUXXU
The lyrics reveal MCs Phonte and Big Pooh’s contempt for popular rap, and contain many of the aspects of Bowser’s “hip-hop” as a cultural movement: respect for and preservation of local community, and experiences of ostracization and manipulation with mainstream labels and the media. Phonte rhymes on “The Becoming”:
It all started back in '99 when time was hard
[...]
Honing our skills for survival, hustling
(source: http://rapgenius.com/Little-brother-the-becoming-lyrics)
The group is from North Carolina, and many of their songs reference this. This one discusses how the group, at the beginning of their career, was rejected by the mainstream “press release.” They separate themselves from the national community of popular rap, which they label as commercialized minstrelsy. Earlier in the song, Phonte says, “Tay rhymes are real life, yours are so 'for instance'”, ‘yours’ being a reference to rap superstars who are complicit in this representation.
On “Lovin’ It”, Little Brother features Joe Scudda, a member of “Justus League,” a rap collective founded by 9th wonder (DJ/producer for Little Brother) consisting of several North Carolina hip-hop artists. Again, Little Brother embodies the origins of hip-hop as a coming together of society’s “others.” During the intro for the track, Phonte announces to the audience that “performing in blackface tonight, it’s my n***a, Joe Scudda.” Scudda has the last verse, and plays the part of the modern day “Dandy”, the silly, nonsensical minstrel character.
“Lovin’ It” lyrics: http://rapgenius.com/Little-brother-lovin-it-lyrics
The song flows right into the next track, a skit called “Diary Of A Mad Black Daddy,” a recording of a black father ranting (in a particularly ‘black’ dialect) about the “ignant ass shit” his son is listening to, which is the same beat from “Lovin’ It”. He asks, “How bout lovin’ some long division, n***a?”
listen to “Diary of a Mad Black Daddy”: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x0wAiIR5NF8
On the one hand, Little Brother embodies some of the characteristics of hip-hop that set it apart from rap, that define it as not only a genre, but a movement. On the other hand, though, I don’t know how well the album as a whole gets their point across. Sure, many of the songs criticize the detrimental effects of rap’s commercialization, and assert that the value of hip-hop lies not in record sales. But upon examining many of the lyrics, Phonte and Big Pooh put out a lot of the same rhymes as the rappers they criticize, in which they declare themselves as producing music from a higher intellectual plane, as being so far superior to their peers that they can’t even make any comparisons. Sure, sometimes they slip into genuine, lyrically interesting rhymes about their own middle-class struggles, but because most of the time they never really go into detail about what it is that makes their music so much better, they end up sounding resentful, overly critical, and even hypocritical. Complimenting oneself is ok, and confidence is something to valued, but as Bowser explains in his introductory paragraph, the absence of criticism was essential to hip-hop’s formation. Hip-hop music was not the place to put down others; that led to a continuation of the cycles of violence that separated segregated communities. While support for one’s community is important, at times I think “The Minstrel Show” relies too heavily on Phonte and Big Pooh’s ‘street cred’, which allows the two MCs to avoid delving into more complicated questions. Instead, they focus on establishing an ‘us’ vs. ‘them’ mentality, and effectively groups any rapper who doesn’t share their views on the mainstream vs. underground debate as part of the problem.
