Wednesday, March 31, 2004

state of the hip hop nation I spent some time at my office this afternoon.  I had a presentation to complete in the few hours before a meeting, so I clamped on my headphones and got down to work.  I have a tendency to listen to really aggressive, driving music when I have to produce to a deadline, so I cued up Public Enemy's Fear of a Black Planet.  Now, this is a great record - funky, funny, smart, political, angry, loud. I listen to it a lot, and have listened to a lot for well over a decade. Anyway.  Later, I was driving home through the beautiful spring afternoon.  I was in a good mood - I rolled down my window, tuned into the local hip-hop station, and turned it up loud (using 'loud' as a term  of relative value, translated here as pretty damn quiet).  The first lyrics I heard were "Rubberband man/wild as the Taliban/Nine in my right, forty-five in my other hand."  Now, putting aside the months and years I've spent listening to hip-hop, which enabled me to understand these lyrics upon first listen, I can only offer a puzzled "what the HELL?," by way of interpretation.   But, let's do some textual analysis, shall we (taking of course, the broader, Derridaean version, of 'text' here)? Rubberband man:  Lyrical nonsense, of which there is a long and proud history, nothing wrong with that.  Taken in context of the whole song (which is not what I'm doing here really), I suppose it could refer to some form of sexual prowess, albeit of a type commonly reserved for women (i.e. "bendy" in the common parlance).  Wild as the Taliban:  Here's where I got really confused.  Taliban is a conservative, fundamentalist sect, and I honestly can't imagine a group less deserving of the qualifier "wild."  We're talking women in veils here, people.  Nine in my right/Forty-five in my other hand:  Firearms reference to 9mm and .45 caliber handguns, respectively.  Given that, I still can't figure out what it means in context.  Constast the above to this verse from Public Enemy's "Fight The Power," on Fear of a Black Planet: Elvis was a hero to most But he never meant shit to me you see Straight up racist that sucker was Simple and plain Mother fuck him and John Wayne Cause I'm Black and I'm proud I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps Sample a look back you look and find Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check I'm quite perfectly clear on the meaning and intent of these lyrics, readers.  I embrace them, even as I recognize and acknowledge their hostility to me, a white, upper-middle class, fourth-generation Texan.  I understand that art lies somewhere in the distance, quality, and eventual bridging, of that abyss between me and Chuck D.  So I embrace it, even as I grapple with the distance that lies between.  I'm not arguing here for some essentially moral or political art, by the way.  I would perhaps embrace it, were I that stupid redneck (and perhaps I am, in the artist's eyes), if only for the fact that it made me want to dance.  As Jay-Z said in a recent New York Times interview, "hip-hop is corny now, man."  I think that's true, but it is such a sad, sad truth.  Even as I drive around in my car, and scratch my head over the unrelenting banality of 99.9% of hip-hop lyrics, I remain absolutely invigorated by the sheer creativity and experimentalism of the music and production.  Musically, hip-hop seems to me nothing less than the reinvention and reclamation of rock and roll by (largely) black, urban musicians.  Note here that I said 'by,' but not 'for.'  I'll get to that later. So, the path from Public Enemy (smart, inventive music married to artisitic, timely lyrics) to, I don't know, Ying-Yang Twins, can be mapped as the descent from idealism and anger into cynicism and despair.  I don't really need to tell you the old, old story of white entrepreneurs getting their hooks into black musical forms, and I will say that one oddly refreshing thing about hip-hop 2004 is that it has created a marketplace in which black people can rise to positions of corporate power, thereby enabling them to exploit and corrupt musicians with the same alacrity historically evinced by their white counterparts.  So, as per usual, the good stuff goes underground and indie.  This, I suppose, is the way of all markets.  However, it is bad.  It is bad in precisely the same way that Wal-Mart refusing to sell Nirvana albums was bad, back in the day.  It firmly prohibits accessibility by the folks that need to hear it the most (i.e. the folks who will create the next generation of great hip-hop music).  In the event I need to spell it out for you, through this process hip-hop becomes the exclusive domain of the middle and upper classes.  I was in Nordstrom the other day.  They have this stellar reputation for their service.  I've gone into Nordstrom exactly two times.  The first time I went, I was dressed in my standard business-casual attire (nice jeans, Banana Republic t-shirt and v-neck cashmere sweater, Perry Ellis pinstripe blazer, Fluevog shoes well-polished).  The salespeople were unfailingly helpful and pleasant.  The second time, I went in there just after I'd taken my dog to the park.  I wasn't the least bit dirty or unkempt, but I was dressed very casually (Mouse On Mars t-shirt, oldest jeans, Adidas shell-tops).  That said, I do feel that I was appropriately dressed for going to the MALL, which from my perspective represents the absolute nadir of legal activity a human being can undertake.  Anyway, I was treated like a potential shoplifter - stalked, spoken to in hostile tones, glared at, etc. I laughed about this, but it has stuck in my mind, and I will never set foot in that place again.  This just to say that I gained some insight into how it might feel to be black, brown, poor, ugly, toothless, fat, whatever, in such a pristine, sparkling palace of consumerism.     In Nordstrom, as I was skulking around like a hunted, hated, person, I saw a big, beautiful sign, hanging over the MAC cosmetics counter.  In perfect pink sans-serif font, against a muted red background, it read "BLING BLING."   6:34:18 PM

My new political contribution strategy Every time I hear Senator Bill Frist speak - on television, radio, or in the newspaper - regarding Richard Clarke's 9/11 testimony, or the 9/11 Committee in general, I contribute $25 to John Kerry's presidential campaign.  Then, I write an email to Sen. Frist's office, notifying them that I have done so.  In these emails, I state my reasons for doing so, and my disapproval of Senator Frist, in the firmest and most absolute manner.  I'm just disgusted by this man's behavior.  I almost flipped my wig when I heard Frist call Clarke's apology to the families a calculated partisan act (from the Senate floor, no less).  I honestly didn't believe that I was capable of losing my top over anything this administation does, so inured I've become to the unrelenting barrage of lies, dissembly, and half-truths that fall from the Bushies' lips.  I've already given Kerry $100 in the past week, and I am committed to this up to the $2,000 I am legally able to give in this election cycle (i.e. the primary campaign - I was interested to learn that, once the parties' candidates have been chosen, the general campaign begins, and your legal contribution meter resets to $0.) My point is this:  It's clear to me that Clarke has his own agenda.  He clearly doesn't like Condi Rice, and he has a book to promote (he moved the release date of his book to align with his testimony, in fact).  However, disregarding the fact that the Bush administration also has their own agenda, and setting all cynicism aside, his apology was, quite simply, the right thing to do.  And sometimes the right thing for the wrong reason is still the right thing, you know?  An apology is something that the victims' families desperately wanted and needed to hear.  Frist's antics are nothing more than sour grapes of the worst, most despicable sort.  I honestly despair for our country these days, readers.  On one hand, we have an aggressive administration, waging pre-emptive war with a sovereign Muslim state, and bandying about terms like "axis of evil." On the other, pop culture hand, we have an immensely popular film that conveys religious and cultural differences in the most violent, graphic, bloody, and asymbolic way imaginable.  The last time I checked, the point of Jesus, in toto,  was forgiveness and love.  I know that's more than slightly simplistic, but I find these cultural/political events absolutely terrifying.  Regardless of one's spirtual beliefs or religious affiliation, a brief look at a history book will inform you - in a manner both absolute yet endlessly, horribly, variable - that fundamentalism is a dangerous, deadly thing.  Really, a brief look at CNN these days will tell you that. That is all.  I'm very busy (what's new), but I am committed to writing here more frequently.  And, now that I have acquired PORTABLE WEBLOG POWER BEYOND THE KEN OF MORTAL MEN, I am better able to do so.  Fear me.   5:13:46 PM