Rap @ 30

A FABULOUS Friday Addition.

When a modern American enters into his or her third decade of existence, most cross this threshold with the optimism of a highly trained astronaut, and the trepidation of a professional crash test dummy. Hip-Hop culture’s most prosperous child, commercial rap music, officially turns 30 this year. And if radio play, music sales, and club spins are relevant indicators, commercial rap music is currently in the midst of an early mid-life crisis.

In these times, it is easier than ever to create a song and promote an artist. ProTools, Photoshop, Final Cut, iTunes and Myspace enable anyone with voice and/or vision to participate in America’s prosperous entertainment economy. Aspiring celebrities and legendary veterans alike have the potential to enjoy artistic freedom and fan support in ways never seen before. When rap fans hate on the current state of the union, all one needs to do is Google their favorite artist to hear his or her latest load.

But when mainstream media choose to support an artist, the fan is more likely to hear songs of swag rather than substance. The depth of subject matter covered among today’s fraternity of corporate-sponsored MC’s tends to avoid provocative social commentary, preferring to focus exclusively upon themes of husslin’ to the top, chillin’ at the club, and gettin’ bizzy. Despite Hip-Hop’s all-inclusive spirit, the brain of commercial rap has been frozen in time for half of its short lifespan.

A brief analysis of the problems facing commercial rap can be traced back to rap’s roots: While Rapper’s Delight entertained the body, The Message came forth to stimulate the mind. The soul of Hip-Hop- the live show- was crushed by crack-era violence and the subsequent rise in insurance rates for large-scale concerts. This zombie became addicted to record company advances in order to survive, and expected more tribute regardless of sales performance.

Record companies largely obliged, and agreed to chalk up losses in search of the hit. After writing off commercially unviable projects as loss-leaders for many years, the entertainment companies exited this period of research and development with a time-tested formula for success: sex, drugs, and guns. During the mid ‘90’s, aspiring artists were forced to develop themselves out of pocket, as the machine failed to keep pace with business-savvy lyricists. Since the commercial stars remained unreachable for non-urban consumers, the virtual concert became the property of MTV and BET, and rap fans in turn began to view the culture through the eyes of a small handful of video directors. Once the entire culture was reduced to a series of foreign-funded short films, the handful of matinee idols that prospered abandoned their mentors, and left ethics in the dust.

In 2009, commercial rap is struggling to survive fiscal recession, waning fan base, and technological assault. When combined with creative stagnation, corporate divestment, and regionalization of fan tastes, some would think that rap’s better days are in the rear view mirror. It’s enough to make the most talented MC plug into the Auto Tune, and join R&B, country, and rock at the pop roundtable.

With the soul of Hip-Hop effectively removed from commercial rap, it’s raison d’être is to “do numbers,” despite the dissolution of America’s top record stores. Big numbers,the type of income that can resurrect the careers of your favorite lawyer’s teen idol. The type of numbers that can send hundreds of corporate employees on two-week vacations to Turks and Caicos. The type of numbers that sell out basketball arenas, and tangentially provide employment for thousands of trained musicians in NY, LA, Nashville and London through a vast, inverted pyramid scheme. Moving maaaad units is definitely wassup, but CD’s for the offline populace have been replaced by mix-tapes, making legal album acquisition an exercise in archeology.

Record store diggin- why bother?? In earlier days, this “unit” was the $16.99 album, which provided great profits to labels and record stores. The physical CD, once touted as a studio-like reproduction of the artist’s experience, is being shelved for the lesser-quality invisible data file. Although it’s much more convenient to cruise websites in search of new music, when you are chillin’ at the bar of that West Bubblefunk Holiday Inn at 2AM, I’ll be dammed if the local mix-master don’t slide in an illegally downloaded, low-fi Limewire version of “Scorpio” to make the poppers pop. If you’ve ever heard DJ Casper command a dog-tired wedding party to slide to the left in that tell-tale MP3 shimmer, it’s enough to send you to the bar again, cuz you know that the “Electric Slide” and “Step In the Name of Love” will sound even worse at 110 decibels (once that roast beef combines with the Ciroc at the party in your tummy).

Please allow me to rub some salt in the wound as if physical media evaporation, writer’s block, record store bankruptcy and technological warfare are not enough, the radio business is taking aim at artist royalties, and altering the metrics by which audience taste and habits are measured. Last week, the music industry and the broadcast industry began the first round of what will surely become a twelve-round heavyweight battle over performance royalties (the artist historically doesn’t get paid for radio rotation in America unless he/she is a writer or producer of the song). The other body blow involves Arbitron- the monopoly designed to measure radio audience trends- switching its methodology from a listener-powered paper “diary” to a Big Brother-powered digital “Personal People Meter.” In 2008, a PPM sample taken in LA included 34 African-Americans in a listening area of 11 million. Viacom’s MTV, VH-1 and BET channels abandoned music videos for “reality TV” income a long time ago- one of the first corporate pillars to collapse.

Can lightning strike twice???

It has been said through the ages that energy cannot be created, nor destroyed. If this theory is true, someone outside of our solar system is hearing Rappers Delight for the very first time. When Rapper’s Delight dropped in late ’79, nightclubs were struggling to survive. Disco was on its deathbed. The vinyl 12” single was the new standard listening medium, and Sugar Hill Records founder Sylvia “Pillow Talk” Robinson was a 43 year- old artist/entrepreneur in search of new vistas in music. Her calculated risk of $750- to jack a #1 beat, the Bronx’ rhymes, and Harlem’s swag- resulted in the creation of the biggest thing since the Big Bang.

The flip side of this story corroborates the fact that Hip-Hop culture, and its products, ring cash registers around the world. Hip-Hop’s DIY ethos has recently combined with PC technology, a global relaxation of intellectual property law enforcement, and fans’ insatiable fascination with celebrity couture. Creation, distribution, and promotion of a hot song is soooo easy that the purveyors of cultural products would be idiotic to completely disrespect this people-powered conglomerate.

Messages of misogyny, murder, and mayhem have had a very real effect on young America, so perhaps this new world order can create a path for more astute orators to earn fanbase. Talented, conscious rappers who stand up against the machine were systematically blackballed, and sentenced to rap’s 37^th chamber of obscurity until hunger pains and parole officers forced them to go for the gold. Now, there’s even a Gospel Rap Grammy, but mass media continues to ignore these artists in its search for negative stereotypes.

If Taye Digg’s character in Brown Sugar was not allowed to stalk the Hot 97 Music Director- but instead arrested by NYPD and charged with harassment- Mos Def’s character could have dumped him immediately and hired a radio promotions firm with his taxi cash. REWRITE- the rapper could hustle hard, bail his partner out the box, and create a plan to cyber-launch his career until club and radio DJ’s took notice.

In reality, the saga of Soulja Boy is often pointed to as the end of the traditional artist development road map, and serves as an encouraging symbol to youthful rappers with a song and dance to sell. Although cyber-fishing through the sea of would-be entertainers can seem daunting at times, the new model is in effect, so log on and dig hard. Just like the phoenix, The MC now has a chance to blow under the pressure of his or her own hot gas.

Rap at 30- who knew???

‘Studio’ Steve Brown is a Manhattan-based audiovisual producer, engineer, and turtablist. He can be reached at studiosteve@comcast.net.

Tagged as: 30, hip hop, My Favorite Music