Public Enemy, one of the greatest and most influential rap groups of all time released an album back in 2007 entitled, How Do You Sell Soul to a Soulless People Who Sold Their Soul? A year before this, Nas, a rapper of significant influence himself, released an album entitled, Hip-Hop Is Dead. What were these respected and established artists telling us? Were they just bitter musical veterans waving their proverbial middle fingers to the new generation and thus new tastes of rap music? Were they just artists who realized that they were on the downslide of their careers who were ranting from a sense of resentment? I don’t think so. I really believe they were telling us something. They were speaking as street prognosticators—urban poets if you will--who could put their collective ears to the ground and hear the arrival of something ominous just over the horizon. They could look into that same horizon and see the bleak future of a music that was once raw, real, and relevant being slowly changed into something simplistic, superficial, and sadly--soulless.
As mentioned in my earlier piece concerning the death of Tupac, it seems that most of today’s rappers literally took the Notorious B.I.G.’s line, “Money, hoes, and clothes—all a nigga knows” to heart when establishing the parameters of their lyrical content. For example, a very popular song entitled, “Successful” released back in 2009 by one of hottest artists of recent times has a hook that goes like this, “I want the money—money and the cars--cars and the clothes… the hoes… I suppose…” I guess originality is no longer the valuable attribute in music that it used to be—well at least he added the word “cars” to the line. But seriously, the narrowness of the topics rapped about in today’s rap music along with its continual dilution as a separate musical genre through never-ending “collaborations” with other musical forms and finally, its oversaturation of artists have served to prescribe the death sentence for this musical art form. People today in regards to entertainment, especially at the consumer level, love to adopt overused clichés. One of these irritating terms we hear is; “the game has changed.” Well, like everything in life, change is inescapable. But in terms of pure rap music, this change has not been a progressive one. Not all change is revolutionary—or even evolutionary. By that, I mean that this music has not changed for the better. The very essence of what made rap music special is steadily being replaced by what it once stood against—total selling out, mass commercialization, the intended avoidance of discussing relevant issues (especially those affecting minorities, urbanites, and the other poor and disenfranchised), and the growing trend to make rap music into the next form of “Top 40 Pop Music Type” of entertainment (i.e. “crossing over”). To some who read this, I might sound like some bitter and old “rap purist” who refuses to change with the times. But to others out there who grew up listening to rap music, what we are going through is the equivalent of replacing good home cooked meals with prepackaged ready-to-serve microwave TV Dinners.
Of all the timeless and priceless sayings of Jesus, one comes to mind as I start my criticism of this particular portion of rap music’s sickness; “For what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul? Or what shall a man give in exchange for his soul?” (Mark 8:36 & 37). Here, the Master Teacher was challenging His listeners with a couple questions of significant depth; in the end, if you were able to amass every possession in the world even to the point of attaining the whole world itself, what would be your profit or gain once you die? On top of that, if you were able to hold these possessions, can you trade them for your soul? We all know the answer. It is such a heavy statement. One aspect of looking at this is that if you spend your life chasing money, wealth, fame, etc. (i.e. “the world”) then you, by default, would have relinquished your soul in the process. Now, I am not examining these verses in regards to talking about eternal life per se or any type of dogmatic doctrinal teaching of that nature--no. The concept of “soul” has a few different meanings and applications. Here, I believe Jesus is talking about a person’s soul in the context of eternal life. However, this can also be applied to the term of “selling one’s soul.” The soul is considered a word/term describing that intangible part of us that gives us life and self-awareness—sort of like a person’s immaterial essence or spirit. If one has been said to sell their soul, it means that they have exchanged their individuality (or free expression thereof) or spirituality for something material and/or temporal like riches or fame. In the world of artistry—better yet music making, a person who has sold their soul has ceased to value and cultivate their respective uniqueness in the way(s) they express their musical talent/gifts in order to get money and fame through making music that will please the most people or create the most profit. In the pursuit of this, an artist switches from being inspired by certain aspects of life like love, pain, happiness, tragedy, spirituality, joy, birth, death, history, politics, social issues, etc. to being solely focused on material gain. This can force an artist to create music that emphasizes things that he/she does not necessarily believe in or care much about. But since money is the master in their world, the quality and legitimacy of their musical expression means much less than it should or did initially. What matters most are record sales, publicity, endorsements, concert tours, exposure to the highest number of demographic categories, corporate marketability, and things of that nature. Therefore, when they want to create art, the sense of originality, creativity, and faithfulness to their set of values becomes non-existent. The material they use to make music consists of trends, polls, market samples, customer surveys, focus groups, whatever the next hot artist is doing (e.g. audio-tune) etc. So, in the end, the music and the artist have become robots—soulless creators creating soulless creations filled with soulless messages to be consumed by soulless people. In time, since the music is mimicked, mass marketed, and mired in mediocrity—it is prostituted until the very last drop of life (soul) falls from it and eventually dies. Remember Rock and Roll?
Put another way, if Bob Marley sold his soul, instead of singing about the necessity of universal human rights in the song “Get Up Stand Up!” he would be concerned with making some reggae tune about smoking a spliff in the back his new Rolls Royce while cruising down the mean streets of Kingston, Jamaica with two fine island honeys in the back seat with him. Instead of him giving us classics like “Buffalo Soldier,” he would have some song entitled “Street Soldier” where he discusses the usual night of dropping a few thousand dollars in a strip club tipping the bubble butted dancers, buying ridiculously priced liquor, while dressed in designer rags—oh yeah, you gotta remember to add a line about how everyone is armed and ready to commit fratricide and how the rims on his car are larger and outshine even the gaudy mouth jewelry of his rival Rastas. You see where I am going? Sound familiar?
Materialism, to a certain extent, has always been around in rap music. From LL Cool J and Erik B. and Rakim’s humongous gold ropes to Ice Cube’s 1964 Impala Low-rider, rappers have always had something to say about making money and looking good. This strong need to look the best and outshine everyone else when it comes to fashion and vehicle choice is actually rooted in the Black Americans’ need to assert themselves in a society that still looks down upon them. Being “hood rich” or “ghetto fabulous,” staying “sharp” all the time in the most expensive designer fashions, being draped in the gaudiest of jewelry, and “ridin’” around is the highest priced luxury/sports cars are all manifestations of a people who daily struggle to let the world know they are just as important, if not more, than anyone else. These serve as not only status but social and self-image symbols in a world that labels the men as lazy, stupid, and apt to commit crime while the women are looked at as loud, ignorant, morally loose, and non-contributors to society. In this mode of thinking, money is looked at as a means to buy things to convince everyone that you’ve “made it” rather than a tool to invest, build, and ensure that your posterity can stand on your shoulders both economically and socially. Therefore, rappers and their lyrics become extensions of Black Americans’ fantasies of “making it big” and showing it to the whole world; “Look, I matter too. I have $10,000 worth of gold around my neck, I am wearing $1,200 shoes, and one of my cars costs more than your house. Envy me.” The need to be envied is rooted in a serious lack of self-worth and confidence. People who need to cover themselves with items of value to feel like they matter don’t need more money—they need therapy. This is also an outgrowth of a people that have struggled with the effects and the stigmatization of being stuck in poverty. Thus, for some Blacks, expensive items are emblems that are utilized to sever that connection between being Black and poor. For example, some would go as far as wearing gold emblems of companies such as Cadillac and Mercedes Benz around their necks. Also notice that the clothes they don usually are littered with the official logos of such brands as Gucci, Chanel, and Ralph Lauren.
In a musical genre that finds it’s heartbeat in the urban American streets with testosterone fueled bravado being pumped through its veins, the concept of becoming bigger and better both fame and financial wise is just part of the landscape. Rappers always have and always will boast about how much money, jewelry, women, cars, and other items--that go along with wealth--they have. Rap music, in large part, is about competition. Freestylers battle rap, rival rappers drop “dis tracks” to outdo one another, and just recently we witnessed Kanye West and 50 Cent try to outsell one another in the first week of their respective releases. Nothing in America and for that matter today’s world allows one to be greater in stature than how much money they possess. This feature, rappers bragging about having or affording this and that, will always be a staple in this type of music. However, at no time in its history was the pursuit and worship of cash emphasized so much lyrically as it is today. In just about every song, rappers must mention how much money they have access to and how they find different ways to waste it—not invest it. From pouring overpriced bottles of alcohol out at clubs and throwing cash in the air to “make it rain” upon naked women at striptease establishments to purchasing six-figure vehicles and palatial homes, today’s rappers stop at nothing to try and convince us that they are just a few dollars behind Bill Gates. The music videos are even worse. It seems that the only ingredients one needs to make a rap video are a group if bikini clad women, a couple bottles of alcohol, a few luxury/sports cars, a pool and/or Jacuzzi, and some ignorant homeboy with one hand on his crotch and the other holding a fist full of C-Notes. You throw in a couple slow motion shots of him walking through a crowded night club and viola; you have a successfully created rap video. Like the subject matter of the music—it too is carbon copied and sold as something “new” and “fresh.”
In other words, rappers seem to be stuck in a mode where they can’t seem to imagine rapping about anything but their wallet, wardrobe, and women. Sure, money, nice clothes, expensive cars, and chics (or as Biggie and Drake say, “hoes”) are cool. But I am compelled to lose respect for an MC who can’t seem to rap about anything else. Does not this get old? There are plenty of other things—more important things to make songs about. How many “rags to riches” and “hoes and bitches” songs can we take anymore? The gross pursuit of material gain—at all costs—is disgusting. It has come to the point where we have thrown off all forms of social and moral standards when we assess the characters of these artists. They openly rap about how they sold drugs, pimped, robbed, assaulted, and even killed fellow Black Americans in order to “get paid.” Really? These guys speak and write books and people support them. People excuse and justify their past. They are never called upon to answer for these crimes they committed in the “paper chase.” Nonetheless, if they are made to explain such heinous behavior, they can conveniently blame the system, poverty, racism, or having no father around to explain why they acted in such a manner against their own Black brothers and sisters for money. We never hold them or their lyrics accountable. So, in the end, when you spend your life and sell your soul in order to “Get Rich or Die Tryin,” if you had to poison a number of people with drugs, put a few bullets in people, steal from a couple individuals, or intimidate and coerce young women into prostitution, as long as you got paid and eventually made millions of dollars rapping about it—it’s all good. Because hey, “It’s all About the Benjamin’s”—right? Yeah, but what sobers me up is that this same way of thinking is what justified White men to kill Native Americans and steal Blacks from Africa to put them into slavery. Who cares how you get paid--as long as you get paid? This message is the danger of the commercialization and soullessness of today’s rap music. I can understand some of rap music’s lyricists rapping about what happens in the dark streets across America—drug use, crime, parental neglect, police brutality, systematic oppression of the poor and minorities, etc. But there is an acute difference between rapping about it to draw attention to it or even taking on the persona of that character to give him/her a voice and rapping about it in a braggadocios manner to the point of glorifying such aspects of society or even exaggerating and outright lying about one’s involvement in order to create shock value to sell records. Talking about the atrocities and tragedies that take place in society and condoning them are two different things. Music helps shape the minds of the listeners—it is not just a reflection of reality—it influences it. With that said, rappers should learn the value of their words and see that the saturation of lyrics that do nothing but promote the idea that getting money “at all cost” is actually costing the music, themselves, and the subculture that supports them their collective souls.
Where are the classic rappers? Where are the rappers with longevity? Where are the classic songs for that matter? You know, something classic is something timeless. You won’t play a classic song and people will complain by saying, “Man turn that off. That song is old.” The reason these questions are relevant is because today there is such a large amount of rappers that have created a tidal wave of artists and music to choose from. On top of that, artists are becoming old, in terms of their popularity, and being replaced by new ones at a rapid pace. This oversaturation of the market with rap artists is making the music into one that is mass produced in a “cookie-cutter” sort of fashion. In other words, there really is nothing new, fresh, or original out there. Artists really have no opportunities to establish themselves and create a body of work of any meaning because they have to constantly look over their shoulders to see who’s gunning for their spot. This forces them to abandon being true to their individual artistic expression and follow the very temporal musical trends of the day. Pretty soon, everyone is sounding like everyone else. Sadly, it is not a case of beat or voice sampling anymore—we now have such an overabundance of songs that are nothing but the result of beat high-jacking or song remaking. Anytime you flood the market with a huge amount of the same product, its demand, value, and general quality all diminish. Rap music is no different. How many rappers do we have named “Lil’ this” or “Lil’ that”? How many rappers do we have that talk about nothing more than “pimpin’ hoes,” “drug deals,” or “club hoppin’?” How many rappers do we have that just put on shades, a pair of jeans, grab their crotches, and lean against a Bentley while rapping about themselves do we have? How many songs are we going or hear about mouth jewelry, the “ice on my wrist,” the wonders of smoking marijuana, the size of “my rims,” or how much you want to be like them but you never will be, will we have to continue to endure? Do you get what I am saying? It’s almost like rap music will be the next thing to be shipped off and made in a factory in China. Soon we will have bootleg Jay Zs and Snoop Doggs—come to think of it, we already do. Look, do this for me. Look at a rap video and look and listen to the particular rapper showcased. Listen to the subject matter of the lyrics, the tempo and type of the flow, and the whole style of the rapper in general. I bet you can name at least three or four rappers that can be put in the same place and do the exact same thing. Just throw on a pair of jeans, some Nikes, an oversized ball cap sitting sideways on his head, and don’t forget the “Jesus piece” and you got it. These guys have become the equivalent of a plastic G.I. Joe Action figure found in any toy store. When this music went from expressing reality to being a mass marketed image, it lost is soul.
Finally, the fusion of rap with other musical forms will also be considered one of the nails that are being hammered into its coffin. There has always been a loose relationship between rap and other musical forms—particularly R&B. Nonetheless, rap has always kept its distinctiveness. On the other hand a noteworthy amount of the rap put out today plays the background role to Rock, Pop, and R&B songs. This is diluting the genre. It used to be the other way around—R. Kelly sang the hook to “I’m F****** You Tonight,” as did K.C. and Joe Joe on Tupac’s “How Do You Want It?” Not to mention Nate Dog made a career out of singing hooks and background vocals on rap songs. Yet, these artists just complemented the songs they were involved in. Again the reason for this is money. The people pushing these so called “collaborations” care nothing for the authenticity of the music. They just want to market music to as many demographic groups as possible. How else do you explain ridiculous releases by team-ups like Ludacris and Justin Beiber, Tim McGraw and Nelly, Kanye West and Estelle, and Snoop Dogg and Katy Perry? Some may think such “collaborations” are fun and harmless. But such creations were unthinkable years ago. To team in such a way with these types of artists was considered “selling out.” But I guess what was selling out yesterday is business as usual today. The market has no soul. There has even been a new category for this type of music added to the list of Grammy Awards since 2002 (entitled “Best Rap/Sung Collaboration”). What does that say? It says that this type of music will continue to grow. Well, what happens when the amount of rap in songs decreases? It loses its significance. Eventually rap will be diluted to the point where if an artist wants to get into “the game” he/she must be put on some Pop/R&B artists music first (haven’t we already seen that happen?). On top of that, trying to break into the business by doing such things severely limits what a rapper can and cannot rap about—further dilution. Things don’t stay where they are. Everything changes—good, bad, better, worse, bigger, smaller, smarter, dumber, etc. Can’t you see what is happening to rap? The quest for finding ways to insert it into different markets is causing it to be reshaped and toned down to feed to the masses. Pretty soon you have the equivalent of sugar free or diet rap. It may sound (taste) similar but the contents are very different.
In the end, maybe I am just a guy in his mid-thirties who cannot get with the times. Everything in this world has a beginning, middle, and end. Maybe it is time for rap music as I knew it and know to just die. Disco died. House music morphed into techno. And Rock and Roll became Hard Rock, Heavy Metal, Grunge, and even seeped its way into country music and a few futile attempts at a fusion with rap. To some, especially in the generations that came after mine, this is just the way things go. But in my opinion, the changes that took and are taking place in rap have little to do with it going through natural changes and development. I see it as having been a victim of corporate hijacking and falling into the hands of a generation who have little knowledge and understanding of its history and significance in the fabric of not only American culture, but culture worldwide. Rap music defined, shaped, and gave a voice to a people who were routinely ignored. It edged its way onto the stage of mainstream music and took over eventually. It became the musical medium of choice for people worldwide regardless of nationality, race, economic status, religion, etc. I can go anywhere in the world and talk about Tupac, N.W.A., Jay Z, Eminem, and Lil’ Wayne. But just as rap music is fading into pop music and having its identity diluted, its life is fading away waiting to be replaced by another musical art form. Thus rap music, as I knew it—as I know it--is soon dead.
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