INTRODUCTION:
To whomever is about to embark on my written journey, keep in mind that the author is a diehard rap fanatic. Although I have attempted to maintain as an objective a path as possible, my passion for this art necessitates this disclaimer. I researched this for my own VFOI and the love I possess for hip hop. The sources I found though inter-library loans were highly informative, and they all ran parallel to each other as far as the actual history was concerned. I’ll have to admit that while I did not include any personal interviews as sources, the books I did find were packed full of stories and first hand accounts straight from the rappers’ mouths. You are about to read pure rap reality.
I’ll have to admit that part of me has always sought after this information for rap addicts like me that can’t get enough of this newfound culture. However, the more I have conversed with my elders and peers who don’t accept rap as a musical art form (non-believers if you will), the more it has become apparent to me that ignorance of this colorful lifestyle is short-sighted.
Therefore, it is my intention to offer a short history of rap and it’s masters and musical roots as well as an analysis of the spoken word throughout African-American society and background on “hip hop”—a common term that is seldom used correctly.
I expect this reading to be intriguing to rap connoisseurs and anyone interested in finding out what rap is all about. As an amateur historian, I become frustrated with non-truths, myths and rumors regarding this subject, so I now present the most relevant info with the hope that even non-believers can appreciate the explosive nature of rap and where it’s going. Put your biases on hold for these minutes, and read what I discovered.
-Jonathan Getzschman, March 1997
[EDITOR’S NOTE: Full disclosure, Jonathan was kicked out of college two months after this capstone project was received and accepted by his professors (four weeks before he was to graduate). His interest in the subject included some hands-on research involving marijuana and how it applies to the culture. Principia College was not interested in this caveat, and expelled him for this engagement. He did return two years later to graduate with a double bachelor’s degree in history/mass communication in 1999.]
Let’s get some things straight
Before any history surfaces about this “rap” concept, there are many misconceptions and questions that must be addressed. For example, what is rap music? To answer in one simple sentence is difficult due to the intricate shapes and sizes that rap has taken on in its relatively brief history. However, there is a simple format that nearly all rap music stands by. The basic elements are the chanted lyrics and the musical track. Lyrics are written by MCs (a dated acronym originally meaning master of ceremonies), and tracks are usually compiled by producers or DJs (disc jockeys) who sample segments of previously released music and/or rhythmic beats (accompanied by any instrument that fits) created on drum machines or samplers.
This is easy enough to understand, but what about the thought process and preparation that goes into the creation of each element? Is it fair to consider rap a lesser art form due to the simplicity of its structure? One of the most commonly stated criticisms of rap is “anybody could do that.” True—anyone can buy a sampler or a drum machine and recite lyrics over a beat—but is that truly rap? In the black community rap is much more than this. Rap presents a dual process where teaching/asserting a rhythmic message is followed by reflection. This community of listeners is:
“…a highly diversified, interrelated aggregate of people who unite into relatively cohesive structures in response to white and government oppression, racism, and patterned repression.”
1 - J. Blackwell, “The Black Community: Diversity and Unity,” The Black Scholar (1975) 7.
Young, black males invented an updated, innovative form of communication that presents an oral history of this busy generation. Rap can be an expression of alienation and oppression or a collection of inspirational messages. It directs the emotions of black youth combining nommo and braggadoccio within the narrative to entertain, educate and promote information that is transmuted into a rate of speed unheard of until now. Furthermore, rap music has taken the responsibility of formulating constructive knowledge and morphing it into salable, edgy, audible art. By enabling young, urban Americans to challenge the narrative of the status quo, rap lures the layman into listening about the world through an alternative speaker who (prior to now) was unable to communicate with the rest of us.
2 - Robert Jackson, The Last Black Mecca: Hip Hop (Chicago: Research Associates and Frontline Dist. Int’l Inc., 1994) 4-5
Consequently, rap is often considered Black America’s word on the street. When MC’s speak their minds and hearts, the rest of the world gets to hear what it looks like coming from the perspective of the rapper. Like a fly on the wall, we get to listen in uncensored. Often called “edutainment,” rap has the potential for manipulating the attitudes and ideologies of Americans through consideration of the social and psychological reality that is black culture.
3 - Carlton Ridenhour, interviewed by Spin Magazine (July, 1988) 34
The onlooker/observer must notice that each song is based upon the lives of these individuals. This is why so many raps are centered around life in the city, whether the ghetto, the drug scene, bad news, hard times or the little good one can find. Since their beginnings, raps have transformed and progressed, upping the standard by which rap is judged to be authentic or “real.” The rule that has surfaced over the last decade is to make sure all content is personal and genuine—no matter what one raps about, it better belong soley to the author.
This has many times defined the difference between commercial rap (pop) and “hardcore” (underground) rap. During its commercialization, rap entered the “lip sync, synthesizer stage.” In this context, rap is defined and packaged for sales’ sake with two dominant trends. First, there is the attempt to emerge as a variation of r&b artists, fixed on singing, dancing and/or “profiling.” The actual concept of rap or message becomes secondary. Lights, posturing and hype become the focus rather than rap as a reflection of reality. Historically, this is considered to be diluted poetry. However, the same can be said of the “gangsta” image which claims to portray the raw inside peek into urban street life via crime, trends and sexual violence. Only pop rap is straight forward in its attempt to solicit anyone willing to listen to it. Gangsta rap is often accompanied by a dingy, lyrical style that is varied enough to be too complicated for the many generalized attacks on gangsta rap. Therefore, it is important to understand that are differences between gangsta rap per se and “real” hardcore penmanship. Underground rap is not limited to gangsta rap and was not spawned by commercialization. Hardcore rappers are dedicated to what rap was originally:
1. community-centered and responsive
2. the music’s sound is characterized by hard, potent beats, what is referred to as “boom-bap,” originality in rap style (not attempting to imitate or duplicate another’s rap style or lyrics) and creative manipulation of words (flow);
3. the rapper’s voice becomes a rhythmic instrument, beating out a rhythm in words.
4 - Bakari Kitwana, The Rap on Gangsta Rap (Chicago: Third World Press, 1994) 18-19
The lesson here: hardcore rappers are not studio creations, whereas many gangsta rappers were sought out for their ability to mimmic real gangsters.
One of the greatest tests a rapper can take to prove his “realness” and dedication is the art of freestyling. A freestyle is a verse uttered impromptu or “off the top” of the head. In some circles, this skill is demanded of rappers to prove their authenticity to make sure they are “true to the game.” Although some MCs consider memorized bits of unpublished songs freestyles, the purest of musicians’ words are spouted spontaneously and snatched from thin air, based on what’s happening in the moment. Like written content, freestyled lyrics are judged on their sensibility and fresh take. This tradition is long and still celebrated by true hip-hoppers but rarely by the commercial industry. Just like pre-taping is safer in media, pre-recording music is much more reliable than jumping in live with no net. Critics of rap can’t continue to ignore these distinct differences between hardcore and commercial ethics. Instead of bashing hip hop, journalists, community activists and academia really need to study the art form. This means listening to it.
Despite the continuing presence of “real” rap artists, pop rap still dominates due to its resources, power and influence within the major record labels. This overpowering mainstream presence continues to confuse the public. In fact, some people’s primary source for understanding rap music only comes from contact with teenage listeners, budding artists, music critics or media that have no idea what they are talking about. In some instances, this has allowed for redefinition and expansion of the concept of hip hop. Simultaneously, the motivation is money, not necessarily good music, and the result in often imitation or “biting” as rappers call it.
Despite these prominent, misleading critiques that bias the public, rap is not beyond criticism. Careful examination and appreciation can distinguish between aspects of rap that are valuable or destructive to the black community and the general public. It is here that after careful analysis, a breakdown of rap offers validity and a potential for positive impact. Professor of Black Studies Maulana Karenga categorizes rap music as follows:
1. player/lover
2. gangsta
3. teacher
4. fun lover
5. religious
The value of categorization is that it more effectively isolates tendencies and thus provides for the possibility of a more authentic examination. Also, it helps critics avoid inaccurate stereotypes about rap that are demeaning to black people and all together ignorant.
5 - Kitwana 29-31
Unfortunately, there is a mountain of ignorance concerning rap. For example, amidst the public’s increasing concern for the escalation of teen gun violence, rap music has been portrayed as the major contributor to the problem. As one might guess, these critiques of rap are often one-dimensional:
“They excuse society and make broad generalizations about rap music as Black youth as violent, criminal prone, anti-social, and certainly rebellious.”
6 - Kitwana 6
Blame has been publicly placed on a whole race of people and an entire musical genre, when the fault rests on a few bad apples who got the media’s attention. This is a quick-fix, easy answer supplied by journalists to satiate the public’s fear of the unknown. It must be realized this psy-op is one-sided and entirely biased, considering much of rap music demonstrates the resilience of Black culture, which proves hip hop is a valid form of art and shouldn’t be dismissed or pigeon-holed.
Speaking of hip hop, it is worth mentioning how the commercial music industry also bastardized the concept to something that it isn’t. The terms “rap” and “hip hop” are not synonymous, but they are often used interchangeably by some “experts.” Rapping is only one aspect of hip hop culture. Graffiti writing, breakdancing and DJing roundoff the big four elements. Style of dress, attitude, body language and urban-influenced lifestyles have also been forgotten or overshadowed by the advertising firms.
During the 1970s, white New Yorkers never had to cruise the Black or Hispanic part of town, because hip hop began to catch eyes and ears there before anywhere else. Graffiti, formerly used by cave dwellers and warrior gangs, was now progressing from a scribbled tag (nickname) to massive burners (building-sized pieces) scattered across the boroughs with magic marker and/or spray paint on all available real estate including subway trains and local architecture. If the city wouldn’t come to the culture, the culture would come to the city.
7 - David Toop, Rap Attack 2 (London: Serpent’s Tail, 1975) 14
The rest of hip hop was an exclusive affair (extremely underground), where DJs teamed up with MCs who provided a show, creating spoken rhymes, catch phrases and commentary about the surrounding scene and their ethics regarding it:
“When I was born, my momma gave birth,
To the baddest MC on the goddam Earth”
-uncredited
A new fashion came about sporting a relaxed version of cool combining casual and sports wear. Breakdancing became its own genre. Competition was now the heart of hip hop. This displaced violence, as adolescents began abandoning their rival gangs to join break boys or graffiti crews. It made the refuge of drugs like heroin much less appealing and enabled youths to create with limited materials. Sneakers became the epitome of high fashion. Original music was borrowed from turntables abetted by a mixer and records. Entertainment was provided with one-upmanship in showoff street rap that came easy to some. It is also necessary to realize how important this (very real) culture was to the New York youth of various backgrounds. Puerto Ricans, Dominicans and Haitians are just a few of the many peoples that helped piece together a cross cultural (not exclusively Black) foundation for the emergence of this bubbling culture.
8 - David Toop, 15
Hip hop is art, and rap is an element of that culture. Although rap has been copied and watered-down, there are still hip-hoppers out there who know the difference. The media has never been much help to rap in its purest form and basically killed the message. If they had done their job and portrayed rap more objectively, the music as a whole would not be considered violent or self destructive. Like most progressive musical genres before it in their early stages (i.e. blues, funk, rock ’n’ roll, etc.), rap has not been given much of a chance by society and has been frequently written off as trendy, simplistic and primitive.
I consider those views ridiculous and question the motives behind them. Rap has an extensively intertwined history in America that only a few have been blessed with. It is an art that should only be analyzed by those who can feel it. It is not a soulless package to be picked apart by anyone. It must be listened to and understood. If it is not understood, it can’t be fairly diagnosed. This is one of the most common problems among non-believers: they often fall short of empathizing with the artist. They can’t relate or relay the message succinctly and dismiss then entire genre with an incomplete analysis.
This flaw among critics can be blamed on the stigmatism of rap created by more of their ilk in an endless cycle of cynicism. In an attempt to promote a wider scope of facts, I will shed some light on more of the historical anecdotes for all to examine. So pay attention, and “I shall proceed and continue to rock the mic…”
9 - Roots, “Proceed” Do You Want More?!!??! (Geffen Records, 1994)
The Roots of Rap
It may not come as a surprise that the speak and sound of rap have been alive in Black history as far back as anyone can remember. Due to this phenomenon, let’s check in on some of the oral history:
“Rap in general dates all the way back to the motherland where tribes would use call and response chants. In the 1930s and 1940s, you had Cab Calloway pioneering his style of jazz rhyming. The 1960s you had the love style of rapping, with Isaac Hayes, Barry White and the poetry style of rapping with the Last Poets, the Watts Poets and militant style of rapping with brothers like Malcolm X and Minister Louis Farrakhan… You also had ‘The New Game,’ a funny rap by Shirley Ellis, and radio DJs who would rhyme and rap before a song came on.”
-Afrika Bambaataa
In traditional African societies, oration was a sophisticated and highly developed form of expression. Depending upon what it was addressing, oration included reciting poetry, storytelling and speaking to drumming with other musical accompaniment. Rarely was the word spoken flat or monotone. Oration served two purposes: to inform and entertain. This oral format was carried out by griots. These were usually male, professional singers and poets who traveled from region to region throughout their kingdoms carrying news of wars, births, deaths and other pertinent events. His status was exalted, and he was distinguished apart from rulers, elders, medicine men and others in African societies. There was much more to the griot than simple verbalizing. Being a griot was a demanding occupation. Since the spoken word was the message, the job required a vast memory and love of detail. A griot was an historian, storyteller, comedian, reporter, mediator, social commentator and often the performer of religious ceremonies and rites of passage. He was, essentially, the first rapper.
10 - K. Maurice Jones, Say It Loud! (Brookfield, CN: Millbrook Press, 1994) 18-19
When slavery began during the sixteenth century, over ten million Africans were captured and shipped to the Americas on a traumatic transatlantic voyage that became known as the Middle Passage. Enslaved Africans were separated from their families and combined with all varieties of other tribes to keep them from communicating. Once in America, slaves were forbidden to speak their native languages, and eventually their African identities were dropped, stripping them of their self-esteem by erasing culture, history and individuality. Regardless of being denied their beginnings, slaves created a new culture that embraced their past and new status as captives. Along with this new “African-American” spin came a new oral tradition that would soon give birth to rap.
During the slaves’ stay with their new American masters, a very similar coincidence began to unfold. Griots in the form of preachers began traveling from plantation to plantation preaching “the Word of God” becoming a new messenger and entertainer. Improvisation and audience participation began to take shape. Ministers expected the congregation to interrupt their sermons with applause and affirmations of “tell it like it is,” “sho’ you right” and “preach!”
With this practice of call-and-response, preachers in the Black church filled their sermons with double meanings. Slave autobiographies indicate that many slave preachers did not preach a simple and seemingly safe topic of submission. They disguised messages of liberation in their recitation of biblical verses and in their slang. When a preacher stated “ninety-nine and a half won’t do,” the masters assumed he was taking about fulfilling work tasks to the fullest. However, the slaves interpreted the same words to mean the preacher meant never giving up on the cause of freedom.
The next phase in this post-African griot evolution would be the storyteller. Slave folk stories, often dismissed by racists as “darkie tales,” were full of inspirational messages for the enslaved. They were usually allegories or fables that depicted animals with very human qualities often based on the personalities of those who ran and worked on the plantations. These tales not only echoed the gist of the African griots, they commented on everyday life and frequently spoke of freedom in vernacular than went over the heads of their masters.
11 - Jones, 23-24
With the abolition of slavery came the natural unfolding of Black culture to the rest of America albeit slowly and painfully. By the 1920s, two million Blacks flowed from the South into urban areas such as Detroit, Chicago, St. Louis and New York in search of better life through new jobs in factories. This movement is know as the Great Migration. As Blacks entered these cities, many of their oral and musical traditions blossomed at an astonishing rate.
During this “rebirth” of African-American culture, major record companies began to realize they could make a substantial amount of money by commercializing black culture and entertainment. These companies started recording “race music,” which was the work of musicians like Jelly Roll Morton, the honky-tonk piano player, Bessie Smith, the “Empress of Blues,” and W.C. Handy, “Father of the Blues.” Because the blues told the pain of the Black experience, the music was packaged and sold primarily to Blacks.
Like rap, the blues were communal and competitive. Songs were often tossed around from singer to singer, while each rearranged them and added new lyrics (like rap remixes). Certain blues lyrics like “good morning blues, how do you do?” and “believe half of what you see and none of what you hear” literally became cliches, appearing throughout many blues artists’ songs, just as James Brown’s “Get on Up!” was sampled by various rappers.
The blues gave birth to jazz, born in Kansas City, St. Louis, Chicago, Detroit, New York and New Orleans. Although this genre became more ironic, soulful, cool, colorful and complex, it still depicted the realities of life Blacks faced—racism, poverty and other social remnants from the slave days. Jazz musicians like Louis Armstrong and Louis Jordan mixed singing and the spoken word against the backdrop of spectacular orchestras.
12 - Jones, 28-29
When bandleader Cab Calloway hollered “hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-ho” in the refrain from “Minnie the Moocher,” audiences went wild from Philadelphia to Paris shouting the words back at him. This was a perfect example of the ability to mix vocal and musical styles while incorporating a call-and-response method. The origin of the song was even spontaneous:
“During one show that was broadcast live over national radio in the spring of 1931, not long after we started using “Minnie the Moocher” as our theme song, I was singing and in the middle of the verse, as it happens sometimes, the damned lyrics went straight out of my head. I forgot them completely. I couldn’t leave a blank there as I might have done if we weren’t on the air. I had to fill the space, so I just started to scat sing the first thing that came into my mind. ‘Hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-ho. Hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-ho. Ho-de-ho-de-ho-di-he. Oodlee-oodlee-oodlee-do. Hi-de-hi-de-hi-di-he.’ The crowd went crazy. Then I asked the band to follow it with me and I sang, ‘Dwaa-de-dwaa-de-dwaa-de-dwaa-de-do.’ And the band responded. By this time, whenever the band responded some of the people in the audience were beginning to chime in as well. So I motioned the band to hold up and I asked the audience to join in. And as I sang the audience responded; they hollered back and nearly brought the roof down.
-Cab Calloway
Calloway’s recollection illustrates the reciprocity between the band and the audience. The bandleader hyped them and shaped their participation and then pushed the band into further improvisation. This vocal spontaneity is part of the foundation surrounding the freestyle essential of hip hop, where rappers engage in open, unrehearsed vocal competitions where the audience may be called upon to respond.
12 - William E. Perkins, Droppin’ Science (Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996) 3
By the last 1940s, a revolution called “be-bop” emerged from the Black community. This music unleashed as the break of World War II was the voice of repressed Black Americans boiling to the surface:
“The feverish rhythmic drive, the careening melodic leaps, and the harmonic progressions tilting on the edge of atonality, resurrected the predominant language of jazz; and ignited the careers of such visionaries of Dizzy Gillespie, Max Roach, Charlie Parker, Kenny Clarke, Roy Haynes, Archie Shepp, John Coltrane, Ornette Coleman, and Cecil Taylor”
13 - Jackson, 12
The direction of American jazz and had never been so radically altered, and no other musical language has succeeded in supplanting it. This complexity, anger and defiance of be-bop represented nothing less than a clenched fist raised skyward. Hip hop is often compared to it, becoming the modern reproduction of the “b-boy” era.
African-Americans have always rapped to music, a conclusion than can be reached due to the word play found in all of our musical art forms. “Godfather of Soul” James Brown, Sarah Vaughn, Aretha Franklin, Sweet Honey in the Rocks’ Bernice Reagon, Pharoah Sanders and others all beat a rhythm out of words. There is also rhythm and rhyme in the poetry of Countee Cullen, Claude McKay, Sterling Brown, Amiri Baraka, Sonia Sanchez, Gwendolyn Brooks, Mari Evans and countless others. In the 1960s Black Fire poets rapped extensively. The 1970s arrived with the staccato verbiage and drum beat of The Last Poets and bluesologist Gil Scott-Heron’s politically charged, carefully rhymed melodies.
The distinctiveness and relevance of Black English (or Pigeon English) was thoroughly documented by Geneva Smitherman in Talkin’ and Testifyin’: The Language of Black America and Black Talk: Words and Phrases from the Hood to the Amen Corner, Lorenzo Turner in Africanisms in the Gullah Dialect, J.L. Dillard in Black English and others. H. Rap Brown in Die Nigger Die recalls the influence of Blacks’ use of language on his personal development, teaching the reader that his name, like most, was given to him, because it signified his special gifts and identity.
13 - Kitwana, 9
Like Brown, a young boxer by the name of Cassius Clay felt the same way, except he chose the name Muhammad Ali to represent himself. Yes, even the champ used rap as a means of communication. Ali claimed he could “float like a butterfly and sting like a bee,” and that “Sonny Liston is great, but he’ll fall in eight.” His use of similes, metaphors and rhyme to ridicule Liston is quite similar to the storyline of the famous black narrative poem called “Signifying Monkey.” In it, the money is a trickster who taunts the lion despite his size and strength and outwits him with verbal skill:
“There hadn’t been no shift for quite a bit
So the monkey thought he’d start some signifying shit.
It was one bright summer day
He told the lion, ‘there’s a big, bad, burley motherfucker livin’ down your way.’
He said, ‘you know your mother that you love so dear?
Said anybody can have her for a ten cent glass of beer.’ ”
These kinds of narrative poems are called “toasts.” They are essentially lengthy, rhyming stories that are usually shared amongst men. “Violent, scatological, obscene, misogynist, they have been used for decades to while away time in situations of enforced boredom, whether prison, armed service or street corner life.” Toasts, like most oral traditions, have been absorbed into commercial entertainment, but in a censored form. “Stackolee,” a desperado figure incorporated into many blues and ballads, was resurrected by Lloyd Price in 1958 as “Stagger Lee” for a chart-topping hit and was even revived in 1963 by the Isley Brothers.
14 - Toop, 29-30
Another form of poetry called “signifying” or “the dozens” is an insult game that incites verbal battles. During the late 1950s and early 1960s Roger D. Abrahams, a folklore student, collected tape recordings of various toasts and other conversations in the Black sections of Philadelphia where he lived. In his book Deep Down in the Jungle he explains how important it is to be a “good talker” in African-American society:
“Verbal contest accounts for a large portion of the talk between members of this group. Proverbs, turns of phrases, jokes, almost any manner of discourse is used, not for the purposes of discursive communications but as weapons in verbal battle. Any gatherings of the men customarily turns into ‘sounding,’ a teasing or boasting session.”
The dozens contests were usually fought between any two males from the ages of sixteen to twenty-six-years-old. A ritual would ensue where insults were tossed back and forth until one or the other either ran out of things to say or was too embarrassed to continue (or threw a punch). Insults could be aimed at anything from the opponent’s personality to his family, but most often, attacks were made on mothers (yo mama jokes). In New York during the 1960s, the dozens became even more specialized with rhymed couplets:
“I don’t play the dozens, the dozen ain’t my game,
But the way I fucked your mama is a goddam shame.”
Bo Diddley is one of the clearest links between present-day rappers and the tall tales, trickster boasts and “joning” or “talkin’ shit.” Bo was the epitome of the bragging rapper. He combined street-jive bravado with Afro-Latin sounds like maracas and floor tom-toms accompanied by his own customized, weird guitar.
15 - Toop, 33-34
Also during the 1960s came the soulful balladeers like Isaac Hayes and Barry White. They approached rapping as a way of recounting the pain and peril of love. This genre used a lengthy monologue over simple, melodic lines. These romantic raps became extremely popular. White’s crooning was some of the first to cross over into the white middle-class mainstream. The message-oriented bars of the Last Poets and Gil Scott-Heron laid the groundwork for the political rappers of the late 1980s. They set lyrics to the beat of a conga drum, while Heron did the same to rhythms of the talented small band to create a distinctive rap performance style that would have an infectious appeal for the masters of the old school and their successors.
16 - Perkins, 4
It is evident that rappers, like their ancestors, manifest the call-and-response form so common in ritual chanting to the gods in their raps. It is also clear that the accumulated rituals of storytelling are requisite in rap’s overall structure. Taking an improvisational cue from their beginnings, rappers invent and reinvent their own vocabulary, adjusting it as the moment may require for recordings, live concerts or the routines of everyday life. Just as African slaves adapted to the language of their oppressors, rappers have adapted English to their own conversations and cultural style. When this lingo is applied to a beat, the end product is intriguing and stimulating to the senses, if you can relate.
The Breakthrough of hip hop
Before hip hop began, there was the Bronx in New York. In the 1950s the Bronx real estate market thrived which appealed to the Irish, Italians and especially Jews. By the time the 1960s arrived, waves of Blacks and Puerto Ricans missed out on the post-war prosperity that had moved uptown. They entered the Bronx in a transitional period. Gradual decay and lack of upkeep rendered much of this borough helpless to the ghetto it would become, and construction of the Cross Bronx expressway convinced businesses and factories into relocating, pulling whole middle-class families to the North side. Housing values plummeted and slumlords moved in with the simple intent of milking the area of any possible profit they could get. By the 1970s, arson had become a convenient method for landlords to collect on insurance and a means for desperate welfare recipients to escape the squalid conditions for priority in public housing. While flames engulfed their homes, street gangs and junkies ushered in a crime wave that has continued until today.
17 - S. H. Fernando Jr., The New Beats (New York: Anchor Books, 1994) 2
During this avalanche of corruption an explosion of creativity rose above this seemingly insurmountable environment. Manifesting itself in the forms of rap music, break dancing and graffiti writing (as well as fashion, attitude and slang), hip hop became its own culture and spread just as quickly as the fires through their neighborhoods. Within this evolution, a legendary aura began to form around the Bronx, bringing respect in the nickname “Boogie Down.” Clive Campbell was a Jamaican-born immigrant who moved to the Bronx in 1967 when he was twelve-years-old. Although a “yardie,” soon after his arrival to the USA, Campbell had adapted to the garbage-filled lots of his new home. By lifting weights, running track and playing basketball at Alfred E. Smith High School, he soon earned the name “Hercules” which he shortened to Herc.
18 - Fernando, 3-4
It was 1973 when Herc’s sister Cindy needed music for her birthday party. Herc’s career was hastily launched by hooking up two battered turntables in the recreation room of their Sedgewick Avenue housing project YMCA. Herc established himself as the DJ. He began playing only reggae (his favorite tunes) but noticed the crowd was way more into funk. It was also this particular party where Herc realized that the only thing better than dancing to James Brown’s “Give It Up or Turn It Loose” was replaying the drum break where the percussion had a chance to shine on its own. S. H. Fernando describes these breaks as a “sonic orgasm, the climactic part of a song, but the only problem was that it was too short.” Herc remedied the situation on a whim: by using identical copies of a record with each on one of the two turntables, he figured out how to cut back and forth between the desired break, creating his own extended version. Presently, we call this a loop (that we simply cut and paste on a laptop), but on that day, this continuous beat which he coined the “break beat” became the rush of adrenaline people fell in love with. He left that party, but the party never stopped and neither did his fame. Soon Herc was buying records just for the instrumental breakdowns usually somewhere near the middle to the end of the song (although sometimes, it was first few seconds of the track that had the best part).
What DJ Kool Herc (his post-YMCA Bronx nomenclature) also began to incorporate into his showmanship was the “toast and boast” tradition of roots reggae, the product of yard culture in West Kingston and the meat of which all reggae superstardom was fed. Before Herc, yard DJs brought huge speakers and turntables to the slums, where they rapped over the simple bass lines of the ska beats to create a style uniquely rude boy. Artists like U Roy and Big Youth were the grandfathers of the trend that today we call dance hall, a musical genre that (like rap) prided itself on its yardie roots. The turntable, record, microphone triumvirate enabled “sound boys” to lyricize live about everything from love to the plight of the Jamaican masses.
During this prelude of rap, it was all about who had the baddest beats. Rapping had not yet stepped into the arena as the main attraction. Most old school rappers like Afrika Bambaataa, Grandmaster Flash and Kool DJ Herc agree that the foundation for rap is the beat. This became the building block for words that were appropriately suited to each vibe. MCs (the term “rapper” didn’t arrive until the late 1970s) would write or be moved enough to spontaneously combust on the mic from the effects of the music. The beat would pull lyrics out of one’s soul, while hand-picked samples of selected phrases from previously recorded vocals, jingles, solos and so on would play the back as extra hype. As logic would dictate, MCs were “dope” when they had the hardest beats and the flyest rhymes.
19 - Perkins, 6
This frontrunner rap evolved with the critical influence of the basement, house and block parties, often tapping the nearest street light for power or paying a neighbor for the use of their electricity. “Beat boxing” (making percussion with one’s mouth and hands) furthered creativity and DJ battles became the norm. This was DJ Kool Herc’s route to fame. As soon as his technique was solid and he had mastered his own formulas through remixing prerecorded sounds, he began the nomadic life of a disc jockey. The antagonist of the time was discomania and considered hip hop’s arch nemesis. Disco was not “dope” in the eyes, ears and agile bodies of brown Bronx teenagers. Queen and Brooklyn kids soon felt the same way.
20 - Houston A. Baker Jr., Black Studies: Rap and the Academy (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1993) 86
Thus, Herc had to be innovative with his presentation. He began to incorporate all kinds of music to keep his crowd riveted and guessing as to what would keep them on the dance floor. DJ Red Alert, who never missed a Herc party, said this about the originator:
“Kool Herc was the type of person that he was not really a mixologist, but he was a person who learned to gather together a certain type of record, from all different bases—rock ’n’ roll, blues, jazz, whatever it is folk—and just use little certain parts of a record, and just keep repeating it over and over and over. Even some of the disco records that used to go down town, he used to play uptown, but then again, he used it in a different form.”
For example, “Apache” was written by Cliff Richard and the Shadows in 1960. It was covered by the Jamaican disco group, the Incredible Bongo Band later and re-covered it into a mega-hit when Herc “broke” or popularized it in 1974. This song was part of the great inspiration for breakdancing. Party goers could not help but “get tribal” when Herc spun his favorites. His technique and selection of records made people go wild. “Apache” is still considered (as DJ Red Alert says) “the national anthem for all B-Boys.” Even the term “b-boy,” which today means anyone down with hip hop, originally stood for the break boys, or those who developed their own form of dance style over the break beats of Herc and later producers.
21 - Fernando, 5
As Herc prospered in the Bronx with his “new” music from 1974 to 1975, many others strove to compete for his spot. To guard against potential competition, Herc kept the names of his records secret, often soaking them in water to remove the labels. This hack didn’t fool Afrika Bambaataa, an Adlai Stevenson High School student who had lived in the Bronx River Projects since 1969 and had been affiliated with the notorious Black Spades street gang. Bambaataa was not really interested in the illegal activities that had become popular such as crime, drug dealing or prostitution. He had a passion for buying records inspired by his mother. This love of music enabled Bambaataa to broaden his crates of vinyl. He listened to the rock of Rolling Stones, The Who and Led Zepplin, the r&b/soul of James Brown and Sly Stone, the African sounds of Miriam Makeba, Manu Dibango and Fela Kuti, calypso and classical. As a young teenager, Bambaataa recalls the first time he had the opportunity to watch DJ Kool Herc at work, and it clearly changed the trajectory of his life:
“When I heard what he was playing, I had all those records that he was playing as beats. I liked what he was playing, it sounds funky, and I got all that shit at home, so I’m gonna start playing that too… once I got my set, everybody was buggin’ out.”
And indeed, everybody did bug out when Bambaataa received a “set” of twin turntables from his mother upon graduating high school. After his first real party in 1976 at the Bronx River Community Center, Bamaataa became known as “master of records” for his wealth of rare sounds.
At about the same time, a kid named Grandmaster Flash was also creeping up on the scene. He had also been aroused by the hypnotic mystique of hip hop as well as a fascination of his father’s record collection:
“My father—he was a record collector. I think what really made me interested in wanting to get into records was because I used to get scolded for touching his records. When I was living in this town up the Bronx called Throgs Neck, he used to have this closet, and in this closet were some of the classics. I mean like Benny Goodman, Artie Shaw, all the popular stuff of the time. He would close it, but sometimes he would forget to lock it. He would always tell my mother, ‘don’t let Joseph go in there and touch the records.’ So what I would do—when my mother’s back was turned or she was in the kitchen—I would tiptoe to the closet, turn the knob, go inside the closet and take a record… Every time I’d get caught I’d get scolded or I’d get beat. Think I learned my lesson? Hell no!”
While Herc pioneered the hip hop format of music and Bambaataa added more flavor, Grandmaster Flash was the man behind the mixing with “scratches.” Flash noticed that during his first shows, Herc never used his headphones. He would literally watch the record grooves and the label to tell him where to set the needle at the exact right time. Flash figured out it was much easier to lay down beats by cuing the records through his headphones (so the audience didn’t hear any miscues or off-beat skips). Through this technique, Flash discovered the art of scratching. When he was ready to cue up a song, he would rock the record back and forth to position it right. After a couple parties, he decided to rock the records on beat and over the speakers so the partygoers could hear his percussive scratches. The term “zigga-zigga” came from the audible sound of onomatopoeia happening live and direct.
It was Herc, Flash and Bambaataa who really gave hip hop the various sampling trend that persists today (but shout out to DJ Hollywood for furthering the mission on radio). They proved that hip hop was colorless. One couldn’t really say “I don’t like r&b” or “I don’t like heavy metal,” because not only could hip hop incorporate all forms of known music, these guys would loop up samples from r&b and heavy metal at parties just to prove there was enough funk to go around in all music.
What evolved from these DJs during the middle to late 1970s was a place for the MC. DJs always had the capacity to shout over their performances to get the party moving or lecture the crowd, but soon the microphone became a tool for MCs to show off poetry or messages over the righteous rhythm. This came about in part due to the increased complexity of the DJs work. The more tasking needed with his hands gave him less time to use the mic. It was Grandmaster Flash who began leaving the microphone open for would-be MCs to recite lyrics. Probably the biggest influence on them during hip hop’s first few years was an album called Hustler’s Convention. This was the second album of Jalal Uridin, but also his first solo release. He first appeared with the Last Poets in the 1960s. Hustler’s Convention consisted of twelve prison toasts with raps like “Four Bitches is What I Got” and “Sentenced to the Chair” which were recited to the musical compilations of Gene Dinwiddie and Kool and the Gang. Although it did not sell as well as Jalal’s first effort, it was well received in the Bronx.
Hustler’s Convention inspired DJ Kool Herc to compose prison-style rhymes using hip, catchy phrases like “my mellow” and “it’s the joint.” Soon Grandmaster Flash was pushing rhymes on his buddies to say over his tracks, but none of them had the nerve to do it. Finally, at a block party, Flash grabbed the mic and “rapped,” and that’s how it happened. Soon everyone wanted to try rapping over hip hop breaks, but DJs realized they had to screen most people from stepping up. Vocal stimuli soon became necessary to keep the crowd under control. At first, Flash allowed anyone who thought they had skills to grab the mic, but most people failed the test. Soon enough though, he found three men who could clearly call themselves MCs—Cowboy, Melle Mel and Kid Creole—and they would dub themselves Grandmaster Flash and the Three Emcees. This is how most early rap groups began their careers: FAFO.
By the latter part of the 1970s the emphasis on lyrics began to replace the music aspects as the foundation of hip hop. In 1978 the Fatback Band and the Sugar Hill Gang recorded “Rapper’s Delight” amongst others which gained the attention of many African-Americans in the country. The songs were about partying and having a good time. Four years later Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five (he had discovered two more rappers) recorded “The Message,” which painted a vivid picture of life on the streets and in the Black community. It was a powerful song considered to be an “urban nightmare that was all too real.”
22 - O. Winthorpe, “Taking it to the Streets: Rap in America,” Music Express, (1985) 35
The next five years of hip hop music took many turns. An association, as well as a division within rap grew evident. Herman, Kelly and Life’s “Dance to the Drummer’s Beat” and Afrika Bambaataa and the SoulSonic Force’s “Planet Rock / Looking for the Perfect Beat” became historical to the hip hop groove. However, the emergence of Run-DMC, the Treacherous Three, Hurt ‘Em Bad, Funky Four Plus One More, the Crush Crew, the Rakes, Whodini, Fat Boys and LL Cool J brought the lyrics to the foreground. Many other groups like Eric B and Rakim, Public Enemy, Big Daddy Kane, KRS-ONE, Biz Markie and MC Shan emerged, and millions of records were sold. The theme of rap during this era was self-gratification and musical enjoyment.
23 - Jackson 16
SoulSonic Force set the standard for hip hop by allowing producers (the evolutionary step DJs took to allow musicians to craft beats instead of relying on the records they were borrowing from) the chance to effectively create their own breaks which could be programmed to continue indefinitely behind the rappers vocals. The primitive but laborious job of manually looping four, eight and sixteen bar sound bytes was later called sampling. Multi-tracking became the easier method of producing, whether reel-to-reel analog tape (DAT) or digital recording onto a computer module. This technological breakthrough enabled DJs to make an infinite number of beats from advertising jingles, TV sitcom themes and movie soundtracks, often transferred from VHS tape.
24 - Perkins 8
Being able to record preemptively allowed DJs to incorporate even more genres into rap. Unfortunately, sampling of other artists became so commonplace (and groups began to make a lot of money), that those other artists (and usually the record labels that sold the sampled songs) began causing legal problems for rappers. In 1991 the Federal District Court of Manhattan found rapper Biz Markie guilty of copyright infringement for using parts of Gilbert and Sullivan’s tune “Alone Again (Naturally)” and ordered Warner Brothers to remove Markie’s album I Need a Haircut from distribution. Other rap groups like De La Soul were completely axed out of their publishing when it was discovered how many songs they borrowed from. To fans, this seemed like greed on the part of major record labels, and rappers often found work-arounds like “chopping and screwing” (cutting up and slowing down) samples enough to be unrecognizable legally.
By the early 1980s, Run-DMC was instrumental in the development of the “hard” rap style, which was musically stripped down to drum machines, multi-cadenced scratches and backup voices. They were also influential in collaborating rock guitar riffs with the sequencing of drum beats which introduced many white Americans to rap while inviting a larger black audience to rhythmic rock ’n’ roll. Public Enemy combined both elements and used fresh sampling ideas, a Black nationalistic ideology and socially conscious lyrics to bring hip hop culture into the 1990s with preparation, direction and spirituality (not to mention conspiracy theory).
Rap music began its rise in popularity in large part due to the music video. It was Michael Jackson who opened this new medium in 1983 with “Thriller,” a movie-styled music video that opened up the corporate industry’s eyes to a virtually untapped gold mine: they could sell black music to consumers right through their TV set. In 1984 Run-DMC turned out “Rock Box” as a music video for MTV and got heavy rotation. This video propelled rap into a much more commercialized stage and resulted in several other music video channels like BET, The BOX and Pump It Up—all of which were aimed specifically at the marketability of rap music.
25 - Kitwana 15
Soon enough, the West coast had their first attempt to challenge the East coast with their homegrown produce. Too Short introduced himself to mainstream rap in 1983 with Don’t Stop Rappin’ and Ice-T dropped Rhyme Pays in 1984. NWA, Compton’s Most Wanted, E40, DJ Quik and other (mostly) gangsta rappers emerged soon after, blanketing California with criminally-minded tales in rhyme. The South made millionaires out of UGK, Masta P and Outkast eventually when their “krunk” sound became as popular as Dr. Dre’s G-Funk (an interpolation of George Clinton’s Parliament and Funkadelic) which was on top of the pile by the mid-90s. The East Coast made a comeback embracing gangsta rap from their own perspective with Notorious B.I.G., Nas, Wu-Tang Clan, Boot Camp Clique, Jay-Z and Nas becoming legends still to this day. And of course, Tupac Shakur initiated the East coast/West coast beef that simultaneously broke record sales and ended with both Shakur and B.I.G. dead. This spawned the riff between the definition of hip hop and rap, where the media began to use the terms synonymously. Us underground fans were torn watching our heroes inevitably go pop as the public embraced them on a magnitude even the artists may never have dreamed of.
In the present, rap is nothing like it used to be, but it is also a lot of the same. Cutting-edge technology has produced cleaner sound allowing the musical track to take back its position as the most important part of rap, as lyrics have become more bubblegum or simple in their messages. Then again, lyricism has reached standards by which old-school rap would be laughed aside, enabling rap to be considered more than just ignorant black babble. Sampling has now become a way of making money for producers (to be sampled) as well as the artists they borrow from. More and more rappers have been portrayed in the media as poor role models and violent men, while there is still not much of a counter balance to rein in the media bias. Rap still has a long way to go before it is wholly accepted and understood.
AUTHOR’S NOTE AFTERWORD:
This thesis was written almost thirty years ago by me as a senior in college. A lot has changed since then. In 1990, when Vanilla became the first “white” rapper to go mainstream (there were others—MC Serch and Pete Nice from Third Bass and Everlast from House of Pain who began as a solo artist before House of Pain), he almost wrecked it for the rest of us after his platinum album was belittled into oblivion for mimicry. In 1999, Eminem not only broke the stigmatism of white rappers (eventually selling far more records than Vanilla Ice), he went on to be considered the William Shakespeare of MCs (and still is) due to his multi-cadenced rhyme layering and ability to harness the angst of the lower class coming from a broken home in Detroit. That same year in St. Louis, Nelly blew up with Country Grammar—his sing-song rap heavily drawing from Twister and Bone Thugs-n-Harmony—and changed the landscape of pop rap selling nine million copies over the next five years. Dr. Dre, Snoop Doggy Dogg and Ice Cube of West coast fame have gone on to become godfathers of rap (considered “old school” to the younger generations) and are now in movies, product promotion and new record labels. Drake furthered hip hop combining r&b with his raps interchangeably (going multi-platinum), but was knocked off his perch by Kendrick Lamar in one of the best rap battles of all time during the summer of 2024.
Personally, I never let go of my love for this ever-changing art form, and I started a record label in 2000 called The Frozen Food Section. I was a poet since a child, but by 1994 after learning that I could freestyle, I went head-long into the fray, stalking open mics, smoking blunts and even competing in local St. Louis rap battles (I won two out of ten—I’ll take it). Once Eminem broke the mold, my first reaction was to be jealous, like why didn’t I do that? His precedent gave me the courage to carry on and believe in myself. In 2004, after releasing my first album two years prior, I was able to contact my favorite rapper of all time, MF DOOM. He was on the opposite end of the spectrum of Nelly (super underground) and on the same level as Eminem (but not as popular) mostly because he refused to play games with the big record labels. This became my blueprint: ignore the hype, make music, put it out. DOOM asked me to send my music to him to consider a collaboration. He was known for turning down more offers than he accepted, so I was head over heels when he liked what I had recorded and was down to create something together. My only contact with him was via email, and he rarely communicated during his creative process (which took six months). He sent me sixteen bars (a verse) and I released “Ghostwhirl” feat. MF DOOM in October of 2005.
I was on top of the world… for about a year, then I felt the high fade and regular life crept back in. They never tell you how fleeting fame is until it happens to you—fifteen minutes—I heard about it. I sold 1000 copies of that record (yes, I still produce vinyl) and cemented myself into the annals of hip hop history, but I gotta tell you, it’s a lot of work. I ain’t mad. I still run TheFrozenFoodSection.com and record at my studio (The Cooler 4.0) releasing digital downloads, cds and/or vinyl every year. I have come to recognize that it’s one thing to record and release my music (which is enthralling by itself), but it’s another thing to turn the heads of hip hoppers with every song. I got over it. If they don’t get it, it’s not for them. My discography has grown to almost 1000 songs—all available to listen to at open.spotify.com/artist/5YsAy9Jp39ob7MZArE4vYO and jonathantothfromhoth.bandcamp.com and thefrozenfoodsection.bandcamp.com (as well as google play, youtube, amazon and apple music). Every year that goes by, hip hop and rap keeps changing, some would say for the worse, but as long as I’m here, it’s gonna keep getting weirder.
Thanks so much for reading. I’ve included my bibliography of the only books written at the time (about thirty in all), if you care to research yourself. By now there are probably thousands of them. God bless rap. God bless hip hop.
Signing off from 2.3 million feet,
Jonathan Getzschman aka Jonathan Toth from Hoth
CEO, The Frozen Food Section
Peace
"J-Toth's like one part layman, one part pay him
One part tre flip and one part David Lynch
You never know what Jonathan's gonna say next
If he ever blows, you suppose we'll stay friends?"
-Jonathan Toth from Hoth, "In a Nutshell"
Splitfacials (2008)
BIBLIOGRAPHY:
“A Working Hip-Hop Chronology” Http://www.ai.mit.edu/~HFh/hiphop/rap_history.html
Baker, Houston A. Black Studies, Rap and the Academy Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1995
Beckman, Janette Rap: Portraits and Lyrics of a Generation of Black Rockers New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1991
Costello, Mark and David Foster Wallace Signifying Rappers: Rap and Race in the Urban Present New York: Ecco Press, 1990
Cross, Brian It’s Not About a Salary—Rap, Race, and Resistance in Los Angeles New York: Verso, 1993
Droppin’ Science: Critical Essays on Rap Music and Hip-Hop Culture Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996
The Emergency of Black and the Emergence of Rap Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1991
Epstein, Jonathon S. Adolescents and Their Music: If It’s Too Loud, You’re Too Old
Eure, Joseph D. and James G. Spady Nation Conscious Rap New York: PC International Press, 1991
Fernando, S. H. The New Beats: Exploring the Music, Culture, and Attitudes of Hip-Hop New York: Anchor Books, 1994
George, Nelson ed. Stop the Violence: Overcoming Self Destruction New York: Pantheon Books, 1990
Gitwana, Bakari The Rap on Gangsta Rap and Visions of Black Violence Chicago: Third World Press, 1994
“The Godfathers of Rap: The Rise and Fall of Rappers” Rolling Stone, December 23, 1993
Hagar, Steven Hip-Hop: The Illustrated History of Break Dancing, Rap Music and Graffiti New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1984
Jackson, Robert The Last Black Mecca, Hip-Hop: Black Cultural Awareness Phenomena and Its Impact on the African-American Community Chicago: Research Associates, 1994
Jones, Maurice K. Say It Loud: The Story of Rap Music Brookfield, CT: Millbrook Press, 1994
McCoy, Judy Rap Music in the 1980s: A Reference Guide Metuchen, NJ: Scarecrow Press, 1992
Nation Conscious Rap New York: PC International Press, 1991
Nelson, Havelock and Michael Gonzales Bring the Noise: A Hip-Hop Record Guide New York: Harmony Books, 1991
Potter, Russell A. Spectacular Vernacular: Hip-Hop and the Politics of Postmodernism Albany: State University of New York Press, 1995
Rose, Tricia Black Noise: Rap Music and Black Culture in Contemporary America Hanover, NH: Wesleyan University Press, 1994
Sacred Music of the Secular City: From Blues to Rap Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 1992
Sexton, Adam Rap on Rap: Straight-Up Talk on Hip-Hop Culture New York: Delta, 1995
Small, Michael W. Break It Down: The Inside Story From the New York Leaders of Rap Secaucus, NJ: Carol Publishing, 1992
Stancell, Steven Rap Whoz Who: The World of Rap Music New York: Schirmer Books, 1996
Toop, David Rap Attack 2: African Rap to Global Hip-Hop Boston: South End Press, 1991
Watkins, William H. All You Need to Know About Rappin’! Chicago: Contemporary Books, 1984
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