SETTING FIRE TO RAP MEMORABILIA

Hey ya'll.
Fritz Pffafpffaf and I made this movie addressing identity in hip-hop for the hip-hop class we were all in this semester, Hip-Hop & Racial Politics. It stars Johnston darling Ryan Kessler and features the music of everyone's favorite 2007 era rapper, Lil Ru.

Please love it. Please.




Here's an artist statement in case you were left baffled. Here it is baffled viewers:

            For our film we decided to pay homage to the single element that allowed both of us to become hip-hop fans: the music video. More specifically, we decided to focus on the stereotypical music video that was presented in mid-2000s pop rap songs. Many of these videos featured cliché signifiers of masculinity, including fashion, drug use, violence, and objectification of women. We have addressed all these topics as well as others in our film.

            The film opens with Cooper theatrically walking to where he attempts to smoke a cigarette, an item often falsely associated with “coolness”. Images of rappers (such as The Notorious B.I.G., Jay-Z, and Kanye West) smoking tobacco products are commonly seen and are often used to extenuate their supposed sophistication. The purpose of using this as an opening scene is to display how a confused listener can easily be manipulated by hip-hop images and aspire to behave like them, ultimately making a regretful decision.

       







 Cooper is now seen posing in front of cars, a materialistic object often heavily referenced in the hip-hop world. Although he is assumed to not fully understand what a cool car looks like he makes an effort to pose in front of a rather bland looking car, emphasizing his misinterpretation of a heavily displayed theme in many rap music videos.

            In an attempt to fully become a true hip-hop fan, Cooper decides to try graffiti. He tags his name with pencil on a power box. Only to regret this decision immediately, returning and erasing the marking due to paranoia.

            At certain points in the careers of many rappers, like Mos Def, KRS-One, Lupe Fiasco and recently Snoop Dogg, a decision is made to become more conscious and shift focus to their Black roots. Cooper’s way of sampling this idea is purchasing a dashiki. He tries it on and quickly abandons the idea, returning to the hip-hop style he is more comfortable with, as seen through his outfit he goes back to.

            In one scene, he watches Scarface, a film heavily cited as an influence amongst rappers due to its depiction of graphic violence, successful drug dealing and promiscuous sex. Cooper is shown watching two scenes: one in which the protagonist shoots a man to death during a drug deal, the other shows a bikinied woman being summoned over to a car. As he watches these scenes, his enthusiasm builds and it is clear that he has been affected in some way.

            Being inspired by the film, Cooper chugs down the only drugs he had access to, prescription medication. In a haze, he begins stumbling around while waving a knife. It is clear that he is very disoriented as Cooper takes the weapon outside during the night. He then wakes up sick and cries, realizing the consequences of what he has done.

            Cooper tries one last way of proving to himself that his identity is truly in hip-hop, through sexuality. He sends a girl a harassing text, expecting that the results will work towards his advantage. When she does not reciprocate, Cooper begins to respond to her in a way similar to how rappers address women in their lyrics, from here she does not respond. This shows how hip-hop’s way of depicting women is something that does not go over well when taken further then lyrics and into conversation.

            After the frustrations resulting from Cooper’s attempts to become the rappers he understands strictly from imagery and lyrics, Cooper concludes that he is living without a true identity. He symbolically throws his few rap memorabilia out of a window. We see him for his true self now as he is left without an identity. 

DJ: Whities and Hip-Hop

The Four Truths

In Bakari Kitwana’s fifth chapter of his book Why White Kids Love Hip-Hop he examines what he deems to be four essential, capital T “Truths” of hip-hop: 1) that hip-hop has arisen from Black American youth culture; 2) skill comes first; 3) “realness” is valued based on life experiences; and 4) that it is very difficult to divorce the hip-hop narrative from the very Black American youth culture that it was spawned.

  We can trace the first hip-hop Truth back to Chang’s historical account of hip hop in the Bronx. Here, black youth, searching for a safe space, embodied elements of hip hop in the black experience. To quote Kitwana, “All the aspects of hip hop are implanted in the genetic code of the African American experience. It was that experience which provided the space for hip hop to emerge. Life is not life without movement, without music. That music is something you bring into your homes, your schools, into your streets and all around you” (152). We saw this played out via subway appropriations and cipher battles in public city space—hip hop is standing on the shoulders of those such as Afrika Bambatta, Kool Herc, and Run DMC.

Though hip hop is grounded within a historically black context, that does not mean that it is an exclusively black medium. Kitwana’s second truth reveals hip hop as a cross cultural appeal—priding skill over mere racial makeup. In an era of “new racial politics,” excluding other races from hip hop goes against the dream of a new, inclusive, America—one separate from the old racial politics of stereotypical assumptions and worldviews. Thus, rappers like Eminem or Atmosphere are now not only allowed into the hip hop scene, but welcomed. They’ve proven themselves skilled in their classes and have been embraced by black kids as well as white kids.

Kitwana’s third Truth asserts that honest rapping and lyricism—or “realness”— is rewarded and respected in the eyes of fans. Turning away from 90’s gangsta narratives, Eminem kept it real by rapping about his mother, girlfriend, and various disturbing breakdowns and thoughts he had running through his mind. A scene from a skit on the Marshall Mathers LP in which he discusses record sales with Steve Berman seems appropriate:

         Berman: Do you know why [Dr.] Dre’s record was so successful? He’s rapping about big screen TV’s, blondes, forty’s, and bitches. You’re rapping about homosexuals and Vicodin.

 Additionally, perhaps this is why artists like Asher Roth have become popular. Rather than trying to fit a mold that he doesn’t belong in, he raps about what he knows: being a middle class white boy who likes to party.

Kitwana’s fourth Truth is short and simply states that hip hop has been so widely associated with a Black American youth identity that it is almost impossible to imagine hip hop without that influence. Hip hop as a Black and “ghetto” art form has become so ingrained in the collective psyche that, Kitwana argues, it is near impossible to divorce the two.

What do we think of these Truths? Are there any problems with them? Should there be more? Less?

Race in Hip Hop

Should race determine recognition in rap? No. As Kitwana states in two of his truths, skill comes first and ‘realness’ is valued. As long as you have talent and can spit rhymes you are golden. The more personal the better. When rap first began it was an outlet for black youth; speaking out against the oppression and ‘the big man’. It had truth and real life experience and opinion. As long as artists today rap about the truth, a message, or real life experience with skill, they are recognized as a part of the hip hop culture no matter their race or background. Hip Hop is about truth, and one white rapper that I believe embodies this is Asher Roth, he is known widely for his song “I Love College” but I do not believe that song to show the skill he has as a rapper.

This is a song where Roth raps about the identity of a rapper and how anyone should be able to be one.

Roth raps about what actually makes a good rap, and how pop culture influences what raps become 'popular'

Wigga: white nigga, wannabe black, whites acting "too black" what does it really mean? Roediger explores it in many ways, two main ones are 1) as a white on white slur and 2) blacks using it to describe white people who embrace their culture; hip hop at its original roots.

The word wigga has taken on another meaning today as a white person trying to be black but just embarrasing themselves because they are "too white".

What is your opinion of the word wigga?
Do you find the use of wigga appropriate or not to describe a white person who is a part of the hip hop culture?

White Fan or Wigger

There is a fine line existing in rap music between being a white fan or a hip hop head and being a wigger. Whenever my father would catch me listening to hip hop (usually something relatively soft like Tribe or Mos Def) he would ask me when I was going to stop trying to be black. As a white hip hop fan I always felt guilty or even shamed by fellow white and black peers alike for listening to hip hop.

There is a more intense pressure placed on white hip hop artists. Every white hip hop artist has to be prepared at all times to justify their whiteness and their qualifications to rap (making beats is a less identity driven side of hip hop). I think that this pressure is completely justifiable. White males have enough of almost everything in this culture that it seems only fair that we are not entitled to absolutely everything, especially considering the historical context. Since almost every other subculture is acceptable for a white youth I think that hip hop is the obvious choice for rebellious young white Americans, and choosing to participate in hip hop is the pinnacle of rebellion.

White rappers have no shame. There is a whole category of white rappers who think it their place to not only hijack hip hop for themselves but to then think it their right to critique hip hop, and preach their morals. Rappers like Sage Francis, Slug from Atmosphere, and Brother Ali take it upon themselves to urge more of black music. Brother Ali, who is a very large albino man, states in a song repeatedly that "the truth is here" him being the truth. He goes on to say "we want more" speaking for all of hip hop and then declaring that he, a human as white as they can get, are the answer or the "truth" seems to me almost racist. But alas, I don't think that white rappers should be discouraged from participating in hip hop just that they should always be aware of their outsider status and have some respect for that.

White Rappers

Connor Evans

What better place to begin with White rappers, but right here, at the University of Redlands? Over the weekend, I discovered Connor Evans, a student from California with a year of living in New Orleans in the mix. Evans comes from a musical background and has just released an EP entitled, “#GreenLightLife,” with the respectable message for people to reach their own potential.

This past September, Evans was featured in an article published on Black Entertainment Television blog, one of the largest media outlets for African-Americans in the U.S. Why should the African-American community and BET’s numerous other audiences care about a White California student at the University of Redlands? Because hip hop is about the message and the expression regardless of one’s background. As Eric B. and Rakim put it in the song, “I Know You Got Soul,” hip hop “ain’t where your from, it’s where you’re at.” The kid has something to say and he’s only hoping that people, no matter what they look like, will listen.

Dvnny Seth

A juxtaposition to Connor Evan’s message-oriented rap is London-based Dvnny Seth, whose type of tea parties involve drinking codeine. Pills, bitches, and self-aggrandizing is the type of content he promotes, however, his light trap beats and lyrical flow remind me a little of Lil Wayne around the time of Tha Carter III. Dvnny Seth is about the sound, production, and appearance, representing himself as “hard” and “real,” which is an almost antithesis style to Connor Evans. Yet these two White rappers represent the scope of style within the classification.

Eminem: Elvis of Hip Hop

Elvis was accused by those who see music from a racialist standpoint as a cultural bandit, because rock and roll was originally a black musical art form. In the last decade the same racialist stance has been taken against Eminem. Those who have been Eminem’s largest critics like The Source, claim that since hip hop is primarily a black youth subculture, black rappers rather than white ones should be the ones making money from the industry. The owner of The Source also claims that hip hop is losing its soul, and that the culture is at risk of colonization like that of rock and roll with Elvis. On the other hand new racial politics have emerged more recently claiming an inclusive America. 

Eminem undoubtedly has talent but he is why has his CD’s gained rocked profits in the industry. One theory is that American white supremacist culture supports mediocre white in black in areas dominated by blacks to enjoy the area that the white artist is involved in like European fans for European players in the NBA.

Here Eminem is claiming to be more real then his opponent based on class rather then race.