The controversial and the kitsch: domesticating hip hop defiance

It's a new decade, and hip hop is getting older. Yes, time keeps on ticking...

I've written about it almost a year ago, but questions surrounding the trajectory of hip hop musical engagement within the current socio-political context still linger. I'm sure Bakari Kitwana, Nelson George, Jeff Chang, Tricia Rose, Davey D, Mark Anthony Neal, Michael Eric Dyson and all the "hip hop scholars" and journalists have been entertaining this question to death, but I'd like to continue the conversation in a more intimate, Fil Am funk setting.

In March last year, I wrote:

"With Black Star's late 90s hip hop anthems, I think that Black Star's generational cohort demonstrates a "bridge" that connects the 80s political canvas with the emerging millennium music. The chant "One, two, three..." exemplifies this bridge. To be certain, material from the 80s and 90s still echos today. Generations are never so distinct, but I think certain songs, groups, and anthems point to "road markers" that give character to various eras.

So, what can be said about the ending of the first decade of the millennium? What are the "hip hop political themes" of an Obama generation?"

In the beginning of the new decade, these concerns are ever more pronounced. With the 1990s almost "dead" to many young people, the political and social imaginary of those times are buried alongside that decade. Latasha Harlins's murder, the LA Uprising, the O.J. Simpson trial, Amadou Diallo's slaying, the War on Drugs--the list goes on about the power struggles over the lives and representation of racialized people during during the 1990s. In whatever capacity, hip hop music ambitiously addressed all of these.

Hip hop music still addresses very cogent topics today, no doubt, but the difference-maker in the 1990s is how its played on radio and television. Decades ago, the hip hop that was broadcasted (not queried on the internet) gave you both the controversial and the kitsch. Today, arguably, hip hop is simply kitsch. The dark underbelly of urban life described by Jay-Z in "Empire State of Mind," the "hardness" of Rihanna, or Snoop's brooding and threatening audioscape in "I Wanna Rock" are deployed and received as mass produced, playfully consumed commodities interpreted in a horizontal array of other colorful goods (such as country, rock, pop...shoes, soda, and cell phones). Where Rob Base and EZ Rock entertained us with innocent party music, Snoop reconfigures the mood of "It Takes Two" (1988), makes it sound scary. But its really not. It's party music. Entertainment. Where is the "real" threat?

Snoop's video for "I Wanna Rock" features the Quest Crew who won America's Best Dance Crew a few seasons ago. You bet they have a buncha Pinoys in that crew, which is named after the Quest Learning Center building where the dancers practiced in Cerritos (just east of Los Angeles). Here we see the pastiche incorporation of the innocence of street dance and the deathly pimp persona of Snoop. Both seemingly disparate images have one thing in common: they are both consumed as flattened, equal commodities.

The more I learn about hip hop in the Philippines, the more I raise these questions about hip hop commercialism and the cultural apparatus hip hop provided/s for many participants. For example, Masta Plann's immersion into the Philippine music scene in the early 1990s illustrates an interesting collision of people (Filipinos in the Philippines) who "other/ed" hip hop to a caricatured extent and a pair of young Fil Am rappers from Southern California who stayed faithful to an assembled codifications of hip hop culture--such as the four elements discourse along with the Nation of Islam-inflected "knowledge of self" ethic (i.e. their original name was "Knowledge Brought Forth").

This example of Masta Plann in the Philippines emphasizes the convenient commercialism vs. cultural apparatus dichotomy, because in the Philippines hip hop has been widely consumed without a critical engagement with its politics, pleasures, or cultural context (except of course the small community of hip hop heads influenced by Masta Plann). It is simply "sa-rap" (yummy) music--to be eaten and disposed of without being transformed by it, without worldviews shaken or challenged.

Masta Plann and entourage reflecting a 90s sensibility with plaid shirts (which is back apparently, but tighter), rounded shades, oversized jeans and button-downs

I think today in the U.S. for a whole generation consuming hip hop devoid of its defiant politics (on the radio), the music is treated similarly as in places like the Philippines. Hip hop in the new decade, for better or for worse, is much less a weapon than a patterned sequence on your daughter's backpack. However, the biggest difference, if I may, is that in the U.S. there is an embedded history of race, economic inequality, violence in urbanization, and musical politics transformed hip hop's politics over time. Whereas in the Philippines, hip hop culture is such a foreign concept that it hasn't had time to be domesticated or tamed in the same way.

And that's not to say that all hip hop was consumed with ardent politics as in decades prior. Other factors matter to how hip hop has been received. In the U.S. in the 80s there was a dedicated community of listeners, many who would gather around the boombox into the oddest evening hours to catch the latest hits put on by mixmasters. There are even stories of early Bay Area hip hop fans who miraculously picked up LA's KDAY on good nights...before the Bay Area played hip hop on the airwaves. Also, people would GO to parties to hear the newest music (complete with a whole "party flyer" culture. And the DJ was the musical arbiter, the gatekeeper of new hip hop). You had to BE with other people, hear other people talk about the music--you would be part of a listening community.

When mullets were hot. 1980s party as shown in my film Legend. Courtesy of Isaiah Dacio.

Today, you can enjoy hip hop music without the culture...without people. In this new millennium, digital technology reigns, and hip hop is consumed right alongside clips of cats playing piano.

The LA Uprising of 1992 may not function in the social and political imaginary of today's young hip hop generation. Hip hop still plays an important role in popular culture, regardless of its saturation in consumer capital exchange. We consumers have real agency in our lives, and this post is not a tired mantra on the monolithic evils of "the media" or the latent progressive value of postmodern expressions. I am just raising questions on how we approach hip hop in the new decade, the new millennium, especially when we have curious youngsters who have direct access to OGs still hung up on the "golden age." We can build.

In closing, KRS-One's anthem "Sound of Da Police" (1993) is almost two decades old and it will always hold a special value for the dedicated hip hop heads of yore and today. But in the new decade, its not the same as in the post-Uprising era. In true consumer fashion, the song's defiance, resistance, controversy can now be contained, exchanged, and commodified into the soundtrack of the year's hottest comedy hit:

"Kenneth! What do you know about egoting!"

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ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: Masta Plann shaves your head

Here is an excerpt from my new upcoming documentary Lyrical Empire: Hip hop in Metro Manila. In the clip, Tracer One (Butch Velez) and Type Slickk (Johnny Luna) of the legendary hip hop group Masta Plann talk about their big breakthrough in the Philippines music industry with their hit "Bring Dat Booty." (Sorry for the poor visual quality)

Masta Plann excerpt from Lyrical Empire: Hip Hop in Metro Manila from Mark V on Vimeo.

These Southern California natives (the group is bigger with the other members from the Philippines and Johnny Krush from San Francisco) are attributed for having brought the "four elements" of hip hop culture to the Philippines around 1992, bringing in a greater breadth of knowledge of hip hop to the islands, where Filipinos only knew rap, especially the "comedy" rap of Andrew E and Michael V and the nationalist/patriotic rap of Francis M.

In fact, Butch and Johnny talk about Viva Records executives wanting the group (whose original name was Knowledge Brought Forth) to be named "J&B" to honor Filipinos' affinity for "letter initial" monikers made uso by the above three artists. And when Butch and Johnny declined that, the executives thought the name "Dinuguan" would be fitting because they did black music. What?? Aren't we all glad they stuck to "Masta Plann," an ode to one of the songs by the great Rakim.

Masta Plann's knowledge of hip hop (with respect for rappers like Rakim) gave rap fans in the Philippines a more rounded dimension of hip hop, setting trends as they made headway into the Philippine music radar. For example, below is a clip of a funny story of how Butch made the shaved head style popular among Philippine Basketball Association players in the early 90s. After some hesitation, the "Michael Jordan of the Philippines" Bong Alvarez (man can dunk!) gave into Butch's suggestion after Butch convinced Bong that NBA players like Michael Jordan had shaved heads. As many of you know, the Philippines is the only country in the world that has basketball as their official national sport (at least among third world countries), and not futbol/soccer. So Masta Plann's intervention in basketball hair style is interesting, showing the interlocking of U.S. sports culture with the Philippines' own self-creations (PBA), mediated by Filipinos in the diaspora.

Masta Plann on shaved heads from Mark V on Vimeo.

Another thing to note is that Masta Plann were the first in the Philippines to rap in English. Doing such helped them get gigs in other places in Asia, becoming a sure hit in Malaysia. So given Masta Plann's accessibility to other Asian countries who are familiar with English, the question can be asked: Did Masta Plann bring hip hop to Asia? Remember, this is the early 90s, more than a decade before Jin Da MC made his mark in China and many years before the Korean government subsidized hip hop for its artists. As a mediator between U.S.-style hip hop and Asia, did Masta Plann precede the explosion of hip hop in Asia in the late 90s and 2000s? With Philippine artists like those in Turbulence Productions (who often use English) making a splash all over Asia, one thing is for sure: Philippine hip hop continues to gain fans all over the East.

Since Masta Plann debuted in the Philippines, hip hop heads in the islands have been creating dope hip hop music and becoming world champions in the hip hop dance scene. A truly funky Filipino expression, hip hop in the Philippines is an incorporation of a variety of styles from outside the islands and flipping it to make it their own...giving a unique flavor that will make haters doubt themselves. Keep a lookout for Lyrical Empire when it comes out!

Finally, here is a music video that Masta Plann did with KRS-One (who apparently lives in Calabasas) and DJ 1987 (Incubus). The song is called "Can't Be Stopped", a tribute to the LA graffiti crew CBS. The video was put together by DJ 1987.

"Can't Be Stopped," DJ 1987 featuring KRS-One and MastaPlann from Mark V on Vimeo.

The Rhythm and the Rebels: Rap's changing political engagement over generations

"Stay calm, there's no need for alarm
You say goodbye to your mom
And you're off to Vietnam.
You shoot to kill
Come back and you're a veteran.
But how many veterans
Are out there peddling?"
("Stop the Violence" by Boogie Down Productions)

In the song "Stop the Violence" (circ. 1988?) by Boogie Down Productions, rapper KRS-One opens the song by singing:

"One, two, three, the crew is called BDP. And if you want to go to the tip-top. Stop the violence in hip hop, why oooh!"

Mos Def of Black Star chanting the late 90s anthem

Ten years later, in the song(s) "Re: Definition" (and also "Definition") by Black Star, Mos Def sings:

"One, two, three, Mos Def and Talib Kweli. We came to rock in on to the tip-top. Best alliance in hip hop, why ooh oh!"

The lyrical sampling occurring between Mos and KRS-One is an homage technique that has been used in hip hop since its mythical beginning. Along with the aesthetic resonance that sampling allows, often the reverberations in content points to intentional recitation of form and content that shapes newer work. That being said, many of us who are fans of BDP and Black Star immediately notice the shared political engagement these artists weave into their songs--issues of drugs, self-love, political empowerment, conspiracy-laden critiques of the government and the elite, etc.

In 1988, a decade in which many young people in college today were not yet born, KRS-One references the war in Vietnam, an event which was still in people's consciousness during the 80s, especially in some instances when young men of color served and came back to be immersed in the bubbling hip hop culture. Yes, some people of the so-called "hip hop generation" are now in their 40s and even their 50s, and yes, some may have served in Vietnam. As an interesting side story, Rachel Maddow (MSNBC) was on David Letterman's show on Monday night. Maddow mentioned she used to host a radio show with Chuck D of Public Enemy, and suggested that Obama and Chuck D are roughly the same age. But I will talk about Obama in a bit. (For fun, here is Public Enemy performing on Jimmy Fallon's show. Still relevant baby!)

Chuck D on "DL Hughley Breaks the News"

Sometimes I ask some young people what they know about Rodney King and the 1992 LA Riots. I usually get blank stares. For hip hop during the 90s, the racial/class tensions related to the LA Riots (and notable boycotts in other urban areas) were near staple for the hip hop soundscape. In fact, gangsta rap preceded the 92 urban unrest. Therefore, hip hop's political environment reverberated along very different (and I'm not valuing it as "better" or "worse") themes than they do today.

Rodney King beating by LAPD, that ignited a generation's fire

With Black Star's late 90s hip hop anthems ("From the first to the last of it, delivery is passionate, the hole and not the half of it" whaaaat!!), I think that Black Star's generational cohort demonstrates a "bridge" that connects the 80s political canvas with the emerging millennium music. The chant "One, two, three..." exemplifies this bridge. To be certain, material from the 80s and 90s still echos today. Generations are never so distinct, but I think certain songs, groups, and anthems point to "road markers" that give character to various eras.

So, what can be said about the ending of the first decade of the millennium? What are the "hip hop political themes" of an Obama generation?

Some emcees, such as Bambu, take a cautious stance on our current era. He reminds us that we must always be critical of power, even if we identify with elite leadership. He rhymes, "Exact Change":

"Now a generation thinks we all act like Flava Flav.
Maybe they associate us all with that
Overlook it cuz a presidential candidate is Black.
Never mind the fact that prison numbers is ridiculous..."

...and also in "Like Us":

"I know what they really think about me.
A Black president will never change what Americans see."

Is Bambu correct in suggesting an Obama generation will not erase the "on the ground" race-consciousness/conspicuousness that people of color live through daily? After listening to so much hip hop before and after President Obama's election victory (from Dres of Black Sheep, to Nas, to Zion I), I am wondering if the resistant and defiant politics of hip hop of the 80s, 90s, up to the late 2000s are forming into something new. But what is it?

After we celebrate, breakdance on the floor, and pop bottles for Obama, will hip hop deploy those staple themes of defiance against the power elite? For hip hop, can there be a "Vietnam" or "Rodney King" in an Obama generation?

Let em have it.