Hip Hop’s Return to Meaning

Illustration by John Rodriguez / VOX Staff

By Marjon Wolfe / VOX Staff

When hip-hop music came onto the scene nearly 30 years ago, most song lyrics weren’t centered on sex, drugs or the glamorized lifestyles of the rich and famous. Back then, rappers spoke about what was going on around them, including their struggles against violence, poverty and police brutality. They had something important to say, and they did so against sampled grooves and beats.

Pioneering old school rappers such as Slick Rick talked about what they saw or personally experienced in their ’hoods. In the 1988 hit, “Children’s Story,” Slick Rick rapped: “He was only 17/In a madman’s dream/The cops shot the kid/I still hear him scream/This ain’t funny so don’t ya dare laugh/Just another case ’bout the wrong path.”

Such powerful, socially motivated lyrics are rare today in hip-hop music. Since the late 1980s, both male and female artists have moved toward music that sells — primarily cool beats mixed with materialistic and sexually suggestive lyrics. I think Mystikal’s 2001 hit “Shake Ya A**”sums up what went wrong with hip hop: “Y’all b*****s/Can’t catch me/And you won’t/Pay ya fare/Fix ya hair/Throw that p****.” And there’s a lot more like that from artists like Lil’ Kim and Akon today.

However, artists such as Lupe Fiasco, Common and Nas are beginning to shine a new, positive light on modern hip hop by going old school. Even a former offender like Ludacris has cleaned up his act somewhat to send positive — although often hard to listen to — messages to his fans.

A Brief History of Hip Hop
Hip hop music originated in the late 1970s out of massive block parties held in New York City. The parties usually featured lots of music — mainly funk, disco and soul. Artists started rapping in harmony with the beats, adding flourishes and alterations to old songs, and soon became known as MCs or emcees. Free style, improvisational rap evolved without a soundtrack, just a simple four-count beat and chorus that encouraged creativity.

Groups like the Herculoids, the Sugarhill Gang, Afrika Bambaataa and Run-D.M.C. mixed the raps with scratched-up samples from classic songs and gained the attention of both black and white music lovers nationwide. Hip hop really picked up steam in 1987 when rap group The Beastie Boys dominated the airwaves and MTV with the song “(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!)” While the song is kind of silly, it still conveyed socially positive messages that early hip hop was trying to get across — in this case, to have fun in life. My mother used to blast this song when I was around 4 or 5 years old, but I really didn’t pay much attention to this era of music — I just liked the beats.

But because acts like Run-D.M.C and The Beastie Boys rose to fame and fortune, many of the artists to follow in their footsteps focused more on cashing in on hip hop’s commercial potential. The powerful and positive messages were drowned out by heavy bass and lewd language.

Every time I turn on the radio today, I cringe at these songs — and not just because they’re loud and crude. Most of the rappers in modern hip hop have no originality or talent, and many of them disappear after their one-hit wonder — usually a catchy hook created by a power producer (not by the artists themselves) matched with some shocking or sex-laden lyrics. Take Dem Franchize Boyz, a perfect example of today’s throwaway hip-hop acts. Their song “White Tee” plays up the worst of black stereotypes: “I slang in my white tee/I bang in my white tee/All in the club/Spitting game in my white tee.”

Lost Along the Way
In our generation, hip-hop artists have lost track of where hip hop came from. They’ve gotten so hooked on making millions that they’ve completely ignored its history of spreading important messages about the state of society. It seems like most rappers see songs as ways to call their baby mama a b**** or to trash talk another MC while imparting nothing of value to the majority of listeners. These songs are all about ego. There’s no attempt to uplift, educate or even convey a deep personal feeling about life or love.

Hip hop, in a way, has become more about lifestyle than it is about music. It has devolved into a way to promote fashion, sex and drugs. Male rappers call themselves pimps in their songs, and they’re portrayed exactly that way — wearing diamonds from tooth to toe — in the glossy pages of consumer magazines. Meanwhile, all females — from the video vixens to everyday women — are portrayed as their whores and b*****s. Even female rappers play up their roles as sex toys. In Lil’ Kim’s song “Jump-Off” she brags about her sexual experience, playing it up because she knows it’s what makes her money. “I got my eye on the guy in the Woolrich coat,” she sings. “Don’t he know Queen Bee got the ill deep throat?/Uh! Let me show you what I’m all about/How I make a Sprite can disappear in my mouth/HO!” Female rappers like Lil’ Kim are indeed ho’s — and they’re bringing down all women with them. Too many young women I know listen to this music and think it’s cute, not realizing what damage is being done. They’re growing up thinking it’s OK to dress as slutty as possible and to sleep around, and they don’t realize that they’ll never get fame and fortune from acting like Lil’ Kim — just a bad reputation.

A New Hope
Now, I’m not saying that all MCs don’t have musical talent. It’s just that most of the new generations of rappers in the game need some artistic guidance. Luckily, I think there are many emerging artists who are returning to the roots of positive hip-hop music. One artist who has been making an impact is Common, and he’s been doing it for more than a decade.

In 1994, Common released the song “I Used to Love H.E.R,” which is regarded by hip-hop purists as one of the greatest recordings of the genre. The song openly criticizes the direction hip-hop music was taking during the mid-1990s, and specifically the popularity of West Coast rap. In this song, Common makes an interesting analogy — he compares the degradation of a woman with the deterioration of hip-hop music after its commercial success forced it into the mainstream. “Talkin’ about poppin’ glocks/Servin’ rocks/And hittin’ switches,” he raps. “Now she’s a gangsta/Rollin’ with gangsta b*****s/Always smoking’ blunts and getting drunk/But I’m a take her back hoping that the s**t stop/ Cause who I’m talking ’bout, y’all, is hip hop.”

In releasing this song, Common really put himself out there and sparked a beef with West Coast rapper Ice Cube. The beef ended peacefully, and many people in the industry realized Common was speaking the truth.

Unfortunately it’s taken a long time for other rappers to be as open about their disdain for commercial rap and take creative strides to turn the movement around. Some hip-hop artists learned from Common’s lesson and have shown signs of maturing. Atlanta’s own Ludacris is a prime example.

When Ludacris first hit the scene in 2000 he copied the trend to treat women as sex toys. In his single from that year, “What’s Your Fantasy,” he sings: “I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo’ head to yo’ toes/and I wanna, move from the bed down to the flo’.” You get the drift.

But on his most recent CD, “Release Therapy,” Ludacris shows a more thoughtful side, an awareness of the world around him without giving up his Southern identity. One of my favorite songs on the album, “Do Your Time,” talks about how the justice system isn’t as good as it needs to be. The song opens with the lyrics: “You lookin’ at a man that would die for his daughter/Just to let her breathe/And I’d definitely die for Jesus ’cause he died for me/Give my eyes to Stevie Wonder just to see what he’s seen/But then I’d take ’em right back to see Martin Luther’s dream/I’d dream that I could tell Martin Luther we made it/But half of my black brothers are still incarcerated/Locked up in a cell block.” Now that’s a song Slick Rick himself would’ve been proud of.

Another powerful, new-generation rapper is Lupe Fiasco. His rhymes are both real and eye opening. His debut album has drawn a lot of positive attention from critics and fans, as have songs like “American Terrorist.” This song paints a vivid scene about the state of our society during the height of the war on terrorism. “Wake up/The alarm clock is connected to a bomb/Anthrax lab on a West Virginia farm/Shorty ain’t learned to walk, already heavily armed/Civilians and little children are especially harmed/Camouflaged Torahs, Bibles and glorious Qu’rans/The books that take you to heaven and let you meet the Lord there/Have become misinterpreted, reasons for warfare.” You can’t get more real than that.

While I’m happy that hip hop is taking a positive turn, it’s got a long way to go. I still have a hard time listening to most of the music on the radio. The vast majority of hip-hop artists are primarily in the b****, ho and bling-bling mode today. And I haven’t seen many female rappers stepping up and speaking out against the way the genre treats women. But I have faith that the hip-hop movement will continue to pay homage to where it came from and replace the negative messages that demean women, devalue intelligence and detract from the black race with ones that uplift, educate and convey deep personal feelings.

Marjon is a sophomore at Riverdale High.