I know that I am getting old. One of the signs that you are being trapped within “your generation” while the one that came after you is slowly floating away into the horizon, is when you start to really dislike “their music” and you constantly wax on about how much better the music was “in your day.” You are getting old when you incessantly find fault with their singers, their beats, their rappers, and the subject matter thereof. At no other time in my life have I ever been so irritated with an era of music as I have been with this one. Every generation goes through this. It is the like the severing of the proverbial umbilical cord or maybe it’s more akin to the rites of passage or a coming of age where you are finally not impressed with something just because it’s new, fresh, and cutting edge. At this point in life you have solidified and adequately defined and clarified your personal tastes. The time of experimentation and giving everything an equal chance is coming to a close. You know what you like—and you are sticking to it. Don’t get me wrong. There will always be good music to be made. I am not indicting all of today’s musical artists. But I know I am sounding like my mother when she would hear my rap music back in the 80’s and 90’s and she would say, “I can’t understand that stuff. It all sounds the same.” Though I can understand most of the crap put out today, to me, it all sounds like repetitive, over-marketed, auto-tune drenched nonsense. Seriously, does anyone use their true voices anymore? With auto-tune, can everyone now sing as well as rap? Will pure lyrical flow now be replaced with this singing/rapping/auto-tune hybrid monstrosity? Not everything auto-tune is awful. Come on, Zapp and Roger made literal classics with it (remember “Computer Love” and “I Wanna Be Your Man”?). Also, T. Pain has made his mark with quality use of this device (i.e. “Bartender” and “Chopped and Screwed”). Even the subject of this piece, Tupac, employed it to drop a classic—“California Love.” But how did the fusion (oh, I’m sorry, I am supposed to use the term “collaboration”) of rap music, audio tune, pop music, and R&B help ruin rap music (EXAMPLE - Justin Beiber and Ludacris???)? Another question that should be asked is this; how did we get to this point? Or better yet—what was the death knell of pure, quality rap music. In my (not so often humble) opinion, it was the death of Tupac Shakur.
The dictionary defines the term “death knell” as “… The tolling of a bell announcing death… (idiomatic, by extension) A sign or omen foretelling the death or destruction of something.” When I first looked at this definition, I could not help but think of the rhythmic but deep bell toll in Tupac’s classic, “Hail Mary.” It is ironic that one of his last and most enjoyed hits included a beat that was partially comprised with an ominous bell toll in the background—giving the song a sense of foreboding eeriness and bringing us closer to the fact that the man rapping over this hypnotic track was long dead. To me, his death and the release of some of his best material afterward also symbolized the beginning of the slow demise of the golden age of rap music. Many people believe the golden age of rap was actually established with acts such as Run DMC, EPMD, LL Cool J, the Beastie Boys, Public Enemy, and Ice T. Others place it in its infancy with such artists as Kurtis Blow, Kool Moe Dee, the Sugarhill Gang, M.C. Lyte, and Cool Herc. To me, the “golden age” of something is it at its very height of popularity and influence—not necessarily it’s beginning. For example, most NBA basketball fans will tell you that the golden age of NBA basketball involved the era of Michael Jordan, Magic Johnson, Larry Bird, and to an extent Dr. J. This is when the NBA broke new ground and established the foundation of the global exposure it enjoys today. I remember many years ago (before M.J. made his final comeback with the Washington Wizards) I was on a plane seated next to an Israeli man. He was much older than I was so we didn’t have much in common in regards to conversational subject matter. However, we did speak briefly about the NBA. He told me that he began to watch basketball when M.J. played and quit watching it when he left the game. I am quite sure many around the world did the same. Yes, Kobe Bryant and Lebron James are great players. Some would argue that they may even surpass Michael Jordan statistically, but no set of players will surpass those who played during in the golden era of NBA basketball in terms of influence and impact—simply because they stand upon the foundation these guys laid. They are great, but they did not redefine the game and tremendously broaden its worldwide appeal. This is the why Tupac must be considered the epitome of the golden age of rap music. Sure, you can throw other artists in there with him—no doubt. But just as Michael Jordan represents an era of an entire basketball league, Tupac symbolizes an entire era of a genre of music. He is not only the Michael Jordan of rap—i.e. the greatest of all times (GOAT), he is also its Muhammad Ali--even its Bob Marley (the representation of the entire genre regardless of era or subgenre). Like Bob Marley, Tupac’s classic songs never get old. That’s the true definition of a “classic song.” It is a song that does not lose its popularity with age. You can play a classic song at any time and the memories, smiles, and hip movements immediately surface. For example, when you hear “Get up! Stand up! Stand up for your rights!” what happens?
Okay, Okay, Okay, let me address this before it comes up. Biggie was not the greatest rapper of all time--period. I don’t care what Puffy, Puff Daddy, P. Diddy, Sean Combs, Diddy, or whatever moronic moniker he adopts to get attention says. Let me repeat—Biggie was not the greatest rapper of all time. Not even close! I know all you Brooklynites out there are going to hate this next line but I have to say it—he was not even potentially the greatest. Yes, even had he continued to live, the Notorious B.I.G. would never have even been able to approach Tupac’s GOAT title. For one, Biggie’s body of work was too small. Second, his subject matter was much narrower than Tupac’s. He had classics—yes, but his classics will never stand up to Tupac’s in terms of universal acceptance. Listen, a couple years ago I was once on the streets in a small African country where English is not widely spoken. I was in a little shop and there was a small television on playing the video to Tupac’s “Hit ‘Em Up.” All of a sudden a young local boy of about 8-10 years old comes in a tried to impress me by reciting every line to the song. He even recited all the “F bombs” at the end of the song that Tupac directs at Biggie, Bady Boy, and Puff Daddy. In the same town a year or two later, the song “Dear Mama” was being played in a small local restaurant. In the eatery at that time was a group of teen-age students smoking flavored tobacco from a hookah. One of them swayed her head to the beat and recited every line. I could not believe it. This girl was about 17 or 18 years old. She was but a small child when this song was released. Yet, she told me that Tupac was the greatest rapper ever and that she loved that song. How many rappers transcend generations and are still considered the “greatest” in their genre? The only artist that comes to mind that fits this category is Bob Marley in the field of Reggae. In Africa, Europe, and Asia, etc.—in 2011, you see many people still sporting Tupac t-shirts and hats. You can look at any group of kids in these nations leaving school for the day carrying a Tupac backpack. How many Biggie hats, shirts, and bags do you see? I have even seen the phrase “West Coast” spray painted on walls in poor neighborhoods and written proudly on city buses here in Africa. People around the world know how to throw up the “Westside” hand signal. I have never heard anyone outside the New York area claim that Biggie was the greatest rapper. 9 times out of 10, it is Tupac that gets this accolade worldwide.
Compare how many documentaries have been made about Tupac and his death compared to that of Biggie. How many times has Tupac’s music been remixed and re-released? How many times have other artists redone his music and placed his raps along with their lyrical contributions on new songs? Who has had more underground, bootleg, and otherwise unauthorized recordings and recreations released—Tupac or Biggie? What’s my point? The reason people keep taking Tupac’s music and rearranging and recreating it is because deep inside, we as his fans and admirers cannot just let him go. Yes, he has been dead for about 15 years but we still have not laid him to rest. Has such fanfare surrounded Biggie or his music? Not even close.
Tupac’s impact outside of rap was also huge. He was a movie star and an icon not only for Black youth but youth and the disenfranchised worldwide. No, I am not trying to make Tupac into some kind of freedom fighter, role model, or great political figure—he was none of those. However, the lyrical content of his music consisted of much more than thug bravado, the party/club scene culture, and sexual escapades. I have heard people from other parts of the world tell me that when Tupac raps, they relate and understand his frustration, pain, and inspiration—whether he is talking about his mother, his hood, or his ambitions. In contrast, today’s music revolves pretty much around a famous line from Biggie's hit “Juicy”; “Money, hoes, and clothes, all a nigga knows.” Sadly, it seems that modern day rappers heard that line and decided to rap about nothing else—pathetic. Sure, Tupac made dance jams like “I Get Around,” “California Love,” and “All About You.” But he also gave a voice and told the stories of those overlooked and forgotten members of society in songs like “Gotta Keep Ya Head Up,” “Baby Don’t Cry,” and “Brenda’s Got a Baby.” He examined the political and social ills of the inequality and racism in American society with masterpieces like “They Don’t Give a F*** About Us,” “Changes,” and “Dear Mr. President.” Who could forget Tupac’s ode to motherhood through the aforementioned song, “Dear Mama,” his examination of the tragedies surrounding promiscuous young women in “Wonda Why They Call U Bitch,” his look at the urban violence swallowing up a generation of children in “Shorty Wanna Be a Thug,” Tupac’s insight into poor Black ghetto life in “Still I Rise,” or his perception of Black pride in “Panther Power”? Does Biggie have any songs of this caliber? Not at all—at the most maybe one or two. However, their worth in terms of social and political analysis??? ZERO.
When we would watch Michael Jordan play basketball it was like listening to Tupac rap. Deep inside we all knew that once he is gone—there will never be another. Rap music’s pureness, its potential and worldwide impact peaked with Tupac’s ascension to the throne. Sure, we have Jay Z, Eminem, and 50 Cent today. But even combined, these three princes of rap music still bow to Tupac’s kingly scepter. Jay Z’s lyrical content pretty much revolves around his favorite subject—himself. Though he is one of the greatest rappers to ever pick up a microphone—his ambitions of becoming hip-hop’s first billionaire will hamstring his ability to dethrone Pac. 50 Cent has always made good music and he is now dabbling into acting (even though his acting is worse that his rapping). However, no matter how popular and rich he becomes, his stature as a rapper alone will never even hold a candle to that of Tupac. He even alluded to Tupac's greatness in his song, "In Da Club" when he said, "I want them to love me like they love Pac." Again, his (50 Cent's) subject matter simply revolves around himself, his money, his sexual exploits, and his violent past (“yawn”). Besides, many agree that Curtis Jackson has peaked and that he should continue to pursue acting (much like Will Smith) in order to stay relevant. Eminem is undoubtedly one of the greatest rappers ever. No arguing that. But honestly, one must question how much of his popularity has to do with him being White. This is an unfair variable. But, whenever a minority of sorts thrives in a field that is normally dominated by those that are very different, that person usually garners a bit more credit and attention than they would receive if this were not the case. This is the same phenomenon that surrounds Tiger Woods, Venus and Serena Williams, and even Justin Beiber. Therefore, one must ask, would Eminem be who he is if he was another Black rapper, or Tiger Woods be who he is if he were some country club Caucasian, how about the Williams sisters if they were a couple of skinny White girls, and would not Justin Beiber be another teen-age Black pop singer if he weren’t White? Still, one must consider Pac the best ever—past, present, and sadly, future.
What happened to rap since his death? Well, when Tupac died it was sort of like when James Dean died or when Muhammad Ali was barred from boxing. It came at a time when he had not even reached his peak. We will never know how much more greatness would have been yielded from the life of this interesting man. When it was all said and done, he released 14 official albums which would sell over 75 million copies worldwide. Amazingly, 8 of these albums along with the bulk of the sales came posthumously. He was also in movies and made television appearances. All this was done by a man that did not live past the age of 25. When he left, there was a huge void that no one MC could fill. Sure, many tried to put Biggie there, but tragically, he joined Tupac a little while later. After their death, rap music changed. It splintered into many more subgenres and the dominance of East and West coast rap, along with the fabled rivalry therein faded. Pretty soon, the significance of rap music, in terms of its ability to call attention to the tragedies and triumphs of inner-city African American life soon followed. What was once a way to call attention to the struggles and voices of America’s Black youth and the danger and frustrations they faced soon transformed into nothing but a platform for preaching self-worship, materialism, and the reckless pursuit thereof—ever heard of the phrase “Get Rich or Die Tryin’”? Soon, ethos such as this caused the youth to switch their focus from “Thug Life” to “The Good Life.” But Tupac was not advocating being a thug in deed but in thought. I once heard him break this down in a forum. He explained that “Thug Life” was a mentality or philosophy that said, “Since they will not give to you what belongs to you, you must take it.” I wholeheartedly agree with this. Thus “Thug Life” is not an endorsement of thievery or crime in action, it is a call to take back what we are actually entitled to as Blacks with the mentality of a cold hearted thug—because that is the mentality of those who took it in the first place and presently guard it—be it money, opportunity, knowledge, rights, etc. His focus was not on getting rich and provoking others to envy (“hatin’”). It was on calling attention to the atrocities perpetuated upon us as Black, Hispanic, and poor Americans and helping to encourage and uplift us in the process. One must not limit and define Tupac’s contribution to music and his legacy from songs like “Hit Em Up’” alone. Tupac was the soul of rap music. With his death, rap music has lost its soul—no, rap music has sold its soul and is now marketed, diluted, spread thin, lent out, and pimped like a simple street ho. I honestly believe that if Tupac would know what has happened to rap music, he would be unable to keep from shedding a tear or two.
Who knows what would have spawned from him had he still been with us? Today he would be 40. One of the things I often think about when I remember Tupac is if he and Biggie would ever have reconciled and made an album together. How great and game changing would that release be? How about if he ever got together with Nas, Jay Z, 50 Cent, Kanye West, or even Eminem? Imagine the unforgettable musical contributions that would have been created. I seriously doubt he would have faded away or gone the way of auto-tune and pop and R&B “collaborations.” He was too “rap music.” He was the last of a dying breed. I just can’t see him spending a whole song talking about the measurements of the alloy wheels on one of his half and million dollar cars. I can’t fathom Tupac doing a song about some corny dance craze that would be “hot” for a few weeks. It is impossible for me to visualize Tupac Shakur, doing stupid stuff like reality shows, corny comedy movies, or rapping exclusively about a particular brand of clothing or shoes. But sadly, since he has gone, that’s all we keep getting served to us. No wonder we refuse to let him die—because the day we do, rap music will join him.
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