Black Mics, White Amps: The story of a movement's struggle for self-determination |
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| Written by Bibo Seale |
| Sunday, 02 December 2007 19:00 |
As the echo of Public Enemy’s seminal anthem “Fight the Power” fades into sonic and mnemonic oblivion, Hip Hop has officially been ushered into a new era. What was once a stirring sociopolitical movement that provided a voice to a muted demographic has now been reduced to the buffoonery of a modern day Minstrel show. In the scathing arena of public opinion, Arabs can now be molded into terrorists, Blacks into jiggaboos and Latinos into fence hopping aliens – depictions that are intended to serve the vested interests of those already in power, while the majority of us blindly buy into a structure designed to exploit us. From affirming the image of rappers as social critics to a generation that may not be familiar with black intellectuals like W.E.B. DuBois, to Eminem’s reintroduction of the notion of white poverty into the sphere of public consciousness, Hip Hop has always strived to deconstruct racial and cultural myths that are central to America’s national identity. The movement’s political personality, however, has generally played a subordinate role to the power and popularity of its commercially viable character. In fact, this tug of war is but one of many dialectic tensions that underscore the battle to define what Hip Hop culture really is – and by extension, to demarcate what it is not. Furthermore, the quest for self-definition is highlighted by an on-going obsession with “keeping it real.” This may stem from the fact that Hip Hop is often viewed as the primary medium for what is considered the “authentic” urban, black experience – as if such a construct existed. Regardless of one’s attitude towards the complexities of cultural reification, one cannot overlook the fact this art form, which is predominantly African-American, is promoted, marketed and distributed by white Chief Executive Officers to a consumer-base whose majority constituents are white suburban youth. So much for “For Us, By Us.” While the rise of the black entrepreneur, spearheaded by multi-industry mogul Russell Simmons, cannot be overlooked, it is important not to get carried away by a few token exceptions. To paraphrase El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz, sitting at the dinner table does not necessarily make you a diner. The fact of the matter remains: White corporate masters control the rap game. The track record speaks for itself.
Gangsta rap powerhouse Death Row Records, whose catalogue includes albums by Snoop Dogg, Dr. Dre, 2Pac Shakur and Tha Dogg Pound, inked a distribution deal with Jimmy Iovine’s Interscope Records. Interscope, along with Loud Records (which was founded by Steve Rifkind), also claims Universal as their parent company. Universal, in turn, is a subsidiary of Vivendi SA, a French multinational owned by Jean-Bernard Levy and chaired by Edgar Miles Bronfman, Jr. Tommy Boy Records, owned by Tom Rothstein and Ruthless Records (best known for its unabashed, multiplatinum selling outfit Niggaz With Attitudes), was co-founded by Jerry Heller and is distributed by Sony-BMG – whose CEO is Rolf-Schmidt Holtz. As far as Hip Hop clothing is concerned, big names include Marc “Ecko” Milecofsky and Thomas Jacob Hilfiger. Finally, in a twist of irony that would make the ghost of Richard Rorty proud, B.E.T., the Black Entertainment Television, is owned by Viacom Incorporated, an American multimedia conglomerate headed by Summer Redstone (born Murray Rothstein). All of the above mentioned individuals, artists excluded, have at least three things in common: they are men, they are white and they are Jewish. Mos Def may have been on to something when he claimed, in a subliminal reference to Lyor Cohen, that “some tall Israeli is running this rap shit” – a comment, incidentally, that got his album yanked out of record stores across North America, only to be re-issued a short while later without “The Rapeover,” the controversial track that contained the lyric. The ramifications of this ethno-monopoly on the Hip Hop industry extend far beyond the realm of cultural exploitation for capital gains. When a group of people is not in control of its own means of cultural production, that faction no longer maintains sovereignty over the representation of its collective identity. As a result, our airwaves are inundated with violent, misogynistic soundbites and seemingly looped imagery of affluent lifestyles that most rappers only lead when the cameras are rolling. On “Sirens,” the apocalyptic intro to Little Brother’s Getback LP, Phonte vitriolically pens: “Twenty variations of the same face / designed to keep your broke ass in the same place” and “this whole shit is a farce, I refuse to be Hip Hop’s pallbearer / had to tell my son cut that bullshit off, them ain’t videos…, that’s psychological warfare.” If those words are true, and I believe they undoubtedly are, it may be high time to fight back. (…to be continued)
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Def Jam Records, possibly the most storied record label in Hip Hop history and home to such acts as L.L. Cool J, the Beastie Boys, and post-Roc-A-Fella Jay-Z, was co-founded by Rick Rubin. A few years later, Rush Associate Labels, Def Jam’s sister company, was co-established by Lyor Cohen (who is currently the chairman and CEO of Warner Music Group). Both labels are distributed by Universal Music Group.
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