by Duke

Before getting into a history of rap or Hip-Hop, I wanna distinguish between the two. As KRS-One put it at last year’s Rock the Bells, “Rap is what we do; Hip-Hop is what we live.” For those who don’t know: Rap is a collection of vocal styles; Hip-Hop is a culture.

It’s also worth pointing out that I know this history is incomplete. A real history of rap alone would take a big-ass book.

Nuff said.

Roots of Rap

Rap is said to have begun in New York – more specifically the South Bronx. I’ve heard stories from as far back as the 1930’s about guys in the Navy who rapped on their down-time. It began as a way for young people to pass the time by rhyming off each other. Eventually this became a kind of competitive sport. Rappers teamed up with DJs to get house parties amped up. The music that was popular at the time was called “Disco,” and the thing that would later be called “Hip-Hop Music” was rooted in running the fuck away from that. Funk and Jazz were the rule.

This new music gained traction and popularity over the course of the 1970s. Eventually, record labels began to show interest in mass-marketing rap. The rappers of the time thought that was crazy. To paraphrase one of them, “You can’t sell this shit. It’s just for parties. You’re crazy to try and put it on a record.” Whoever that guy was, there’s a reason we don’t remember him.

Sugar Hill Gang

The first rap group to break the pop charts with “Rapper’s Delight.” It was a funk-based loop with party lyrics that were written on the way to the studio. These guys apparently barely knew each other, but they came up with a 14-minute party anthem that not only gets sampled more than Mario Batali’s cooking, but still gets massive rotation at weddings all over the world.

They also had another minor hit (later sampled on Ice Cube’s “Check Yo Self”).

The 1980s

Hip Hop Culture’s rise continued. New York’s Rap scene exploded with the likes of Biz Markie, Slick Rick, KRS-One, Public Enemy and others.

Over on the West Coast, Los Angeles acts like Ice-T & NWA were garnering attention with their own distinctive sounds and not a small amount of controversy concerning lyrical content. In 1991 NWA would become the first band in history to receive a warning from the FBI to back off & shut the fuck up; the song in question was called “Fuck tha Police,” and called for the indiscriminate slaughter of LAPD officers. In fairness to the authors, the LAPD is the most hated police force in the free world for some good reasons (refer to Rodney King, the 1992 LA race riots, and police brutality in general).

On the other side of the social spectrum, a certain DJ/MC duo from Philadelphia were making their own waves. DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince achieved the coveted “crossover” status in 1986 by lacing funk-inspired beats with some of the dumbest, most hilarious rap lyrics ever written (and some wicked transformer scratches). People who had never heard of rap (or who had heard of it & written it off as a bad fad) suddenly started buying rap records. Jazzy & Prince became a kind of gateway drug for people who couldn’t take the hard stuff. It’s been railed against by haters of all stripes, but it’s still around…

During this decade of Reagan and Bush Sr, Hip-Hop solidified as a cultural presence with not only its own music, but attitude, politics, dance, art & mode of dress. Graffiti and breakdancing came into their own, fashion lurched awkwardly into styles inspired by clothing that was simply more practical for street hustlers.

This was all happening at the same time as the Hardcore explosion of machine-gun punk songs in Washington DC – a development that would soon have a palpable effect on the sound of Hip-Hop music.

More and more, the mainstream audience came to recognize the validity of the movement, and even to contribute to it. By this time the music (and with it the culture) had crept beyond the USA into Canada, Mexico and the UK. Public Enemy, Ice-T and others were selling out stadium shows worldwide, and it looked like the only way things could go was up.

The 90s

In the early 90s, Hip-Hop was in the throes of an identity crisis. Public Enemy’s Flavor Flav was in drug rehab, NWA was wracked by conflicting egos in the band, Ice-T was trying out his acting chops, and Vanilla Ice was topping charts the world over. Shit was ugly.

Enter NWA alumnus, Dr Dre. With 1992’s “The Chronic,” Dre took a shoestring budget, a couple of outdated keyboards, a Roland TR-808 and a bunch of guys from LA and dropped a Hydrogen Bomb on the music industry. “The Chronic” not only made him and Death Row Records rich beyond the dreams of avarice, but introduced the vocal lineup that would be ubiquitous throughout the decade – Snoop Dogg, Nate Dogg and Warren G, among others. The label would later sign Tupac Shakur (fresh outta jail, no less) & take Gangsta Rap to the mainstream.

This was the smooth, polished West Coast gangsta shit that took over for a long moment.

At the same time, an affiliation of rappers & producers with ethnic backgrounds ranging from Cuba to Latvia were breaking new ground by bringing together the West Coast flavor and the jagged, noisy ruckus dominating the East Coast. These were the “Soul Assassins,” led by Cypress Hill. The unsettling psychedelic beats, the bare-faced pragmatism of the lyrics and the bizarre vocal deliveries made them a mainstay of the culture, as they still are now. Let’s not forget the impact they also had on the Marijuana Legalization Movement either…

By now, Hip-Hop was being embraced by adherents to another culture – the Metalheads. First Anthrax arrived in the 80s with a Beastie Boys parody entitled “I’m the Man.” Soon afterwards an LA quartet would merge the sounds of England’s Black Sabbath and Washington DC’s Black Flag with rap lyrics inspired by socially conscious New York rappers like Chuck D and KRS-One. Rage Against the Machine took political rap to the next level. These guys had an agenda – revolution and true democracy. Zack de la Rocha’s lyrics uncover injustice in any form or geographic location – from the Pine Ridge Reservation in the USA to Saigon.

The two musical genres continued to blur the lines between them over the next few years. Anthrax revisited Public Enemy’s “Bring the Noize” as a vocal duet featuring Scott Ian and Chuck D.

The “Judgment Night” movie soundtrack brought rock bands together with rappers in some really unexpected ways – Booyah Tribe rhyming with Faith No More, Ice-T screaming with thrash band Slayer, and even Del the Funky Homosapien rapping over Dinosaur Jr. It was a landmark & a killer record. Years later, Cypress Hill would revisit the concept by joining with Sen Dog’s band SX-10 for a few songs on the “Skull & Bones” and “Stoned Raiders” albums.

We won’t talk about that other rap-metal band… You know which one. Here’s some Onyx & Biohazard instead.

Meantime on the East Coast, upstart producer Sean “Puffy” Combs was building the foundation of his own empire, Bad Boy Records. Everybody knows Biggie was the best thing that ever happened to him. Sadly, the worst thing that happened was Suge Knight’s psychopathic thuggery, which would rob both labels (and the world) of the two best emcees in the game at that time. The two had been friends until Suge’s tutelage brought out the worst in Tupac, leading to the most notorious beef (and double homicide) the game has seen to date.

Regional Differences

Not just the East-vs-West beef, which is ancient history (despite the lack of inquiry into who actually planned & committed the murders)… Stylistic differences can be traced by geography for the most part, although the evolution of these styles is much faster now. The world is getting smaller & collaboration over great distances is getting easier, but there are still differences in style from place to place.

The West-coast sound was defined by big beats with lots of bass tones & weed references and polish (a style that was bitten off & chewed to shit by the aptly named “Dirty South”). Lyrically the West has tended towards gangsta rap from various perspectives – from the Boss Player’s omniscience to the vigilance of the homeless street hustler. Politics has a place here, but it’s second place; even the political raps from Tupac leaned more towards social commentary than political discourse.

West Coast rap plays on a cool counterpoint. The music tends to conjure up images of slow & easy days in the desert sun, while the lyrics paint a portrait of a gilded warzone – diamond-studded generals and foot-soldiers with more money than Davie Crockett.

East coast rap & the music behind was generally unpolished, abrasive, socially conscious and politically motivated. Acts like Public Enemy, BDP/KRS-One, Onyx and Wu-Tang Clan defined the East-Coast sound with samples of music from the Civil Rights Movement & the Jazz Era (a.k.a. the “Harlem Renaissance”), combined with grimy vocals and gritty drum loops.

The “Dirty South” really launched with OutKast, Goodie Mob, Nappy Roots, Missy Elliott and the Neptunes, although the South’s first act to go 3X platinum was none other than 2-Live Crew (a Miami outfit that laced electro beats with rock n roll samples and some of the nastiest shit ever said by anyone anywhere). Their success owes less to inspired lyrics & solid beats, more to being banned in Broward County – a decision that was overturned in favor of 1st Amendment rights.

Later came the likes of Lil Wayne & the Cash Money Family, Lil John and Ludacris. The sound is defined by the blending of club-based dance music with the hard-hitting party beats of the West, along with the southern tradition of story-telling. It gave rise to the thing we know as “Crunk,” which need not be confused with the rest of Southern Hip-Hop (music or culture). Lyrics in the South aren’t just about “sippin on sizzurp” either, although you’d never know going by what you hear on radio; much of the lyricism relies on metaphor and simile, and the B-sides are often packed with biting social commentary.

One more thing… In the summer of 1998, a skinny, pill-popping white kid from Detroit wandered out of Dr Dre’s office and completely changed the way rap lyrics were delivered. Just thought that was worth mentioning.

Today

The culture – music, fashion, dance & art – has gone global in a big way. You not only hear Tupac and Wale played anywhere from Paris to Magadan. You also hear Siberian emcees praised by Russia’s Prime Minister Putin, see breaking crews from China, and hear about the underground rappers of Iran. Palestinian emcees spit about the impact of political oppression in their own lives, and Somali rappers chant on hope in the midst of chaos & murder. The world hasn’t just caught on; they bring new modes to the music & wisdom to the culture.

The biggest drawback to this fact is that the culture has also been hijacked by corporate interests who neither understand nor care about its roots or future. When this happens, the culture dies… generally. The cool thing about Hip-Hop is that it’s used to being hijacked and steered off track. Whenever this has happened before, there was always some little bastard somewhere who stuck to his guns, broke the rules and found their audience… who in turn are inspired to revitalize the real. The mainstream interpretation dies while the underground movement creeps up & takes over the spot. Examples of this range from Busta Rhymes, Eminem, Talib Kweli and Mos Def to the Roots, Kardinal Offishall, Sweatshop Union, Nas and the indefatigable KRS-One.

It’s as though the music follows a trajectory that rises and falls like the tide… or like life in general. A real artist breaks out with some revolutionary shit that sends everybody back to the lab, and the imitators grab hold & ride it to death. This usually takes about 3 or 4 years. When the music has gone so far down into the pop machine that you think it’ll never come back, another hard-nosed grass-roots artist with reality and focus on his side burns it all down and rebuilds some shit. And the cycle continues.

Toronto

Here in Toronto, we import a lot of our talent… and then export it for some reason. Toronto rappers come from Somalia, St Vincent, Nigeria, Jamaica, Guyana… and sometimes even Canada. The cultural influence on our city is so varied it adds up to more than the sum of the parts. Kardi touched the tip of the iceberg with that line from Bacardi Slang: “You think we all Jamaican, but nope – many are Trinities… Bajans, Grenadians… Guyanese and ALL the West Indies combine to make the T-dot-O-dot one of a kind.”

After finding their Canadian fans, it quickly becomes apparent that you can’t make a living off Hip-Hop in Canada. This needs to change or everybody’s gonna jump ship the first chance they get (or die penniless and insane). Then we end up with atrocities like Kardi rapping alongside Akon. We want you to come home, man… but not if it means you gotta be broke like the rest of us. Like Toronto native Bishop was heard to lament, “Canada’s industry’s a joke/ I’m a rap star and still flat broke.” …or words to that effect.

This leads to a lack of leadership in the community; a Hip-Hop brain-drain.

How are we gonna solve this? This is one of things we wanna address through “United in Flow.” It starts with all of us, cuz it ends with all of us. It’s bigger than music and a mixtape; it’s about recognizing & fostering a culture of life that’s been quietly growing in our midst; it’s about reaching out to the youth and the elders to bring it all together. It’s also about letting people know Toronto is more than just grunge and reggaeton (no offense to artists there), that graffiti is more than just tagging (although tagging is a big part), that b-boys and b-girls do more than just stand around with their arms crossed, and rap is more than blunts, forties and bitches.

Above all, we trying to knock down Toronto’s status as the Screwface Capital – with more haters per capita than any other city.

Good news: Between new developments like Studio 2.0 and United in Flow, this is a very real possibility. We just gotta put in the work.

Peace, Love and Dope,

- Duke “Buzzy” Ellis

See also: Hip-Hop Timeline
and Wiki-Synopsis

Technorati Tags: hip hop, history, rap, studio 2.0, United in Flow

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This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010 at 8:35 pm and is filed under Music Culture, Music History, studio 2.0. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.