An Original Essay, Rap Music and African Traditions, by S. Jovian Radheshwar

Relations between groups of people are characterized not by understanding, comprehension and empathy. The story of humanity is more often than not characterized by exploitation, racism, genocide and deliberate marginalization. The most shocking fact that American students of African history and sociology come across is that Africans do not view themselves as a homogeneous entity. Africans are indeed distinctive as Atlantans, New Yorkers and Bostonians are distinctive within the United States. These distinctions, are however, much stronger and can elicit more powerful reactions from Africans than they can of regionally diverse Americans. Recently in Africa there have been massive conflicts between tribal and ethnic groups, often resulting in ethnic slaughter and the conscription and rape of young children. The systematic destruction of cultures by rival cultures is a fact of human existence, for sure, and a monolithic understanding of “Africa” and of “Blackness” can only foster the harmful and racist notion that blacks worldwide are savages, and therefore cannot be afforded rights, responsibilities and even simple dignified human existence. When one places their understanding of African and Afro-diasporic society into the context of tribes that view each other as different although similarly pigmented, then the scholar can gain ground in the pursuit to understanding the problems of contemporary Africa, and Afro-diasporic societies. The purpose of this essay is not to validate that “blackness” is a global, universal trait of all people from Africa and the Afro-diasporic societies in the Americas and Europe. Rather it is to understand the replication of cultural practices in both societies. Specifically, the Oral historiographical traditions of Africans and the replication of these traditions that have come to be the primary cultural medium of Blacks in the west. Oral historiographical traditions in the west is somewhat misleading, as the focus of this essay will be the development of Rap music in the United States. Certainly, other Black societies in the world have been making Rap music for some time, but the critical temporal incidence of the formation of Rap music in post-industrial New York City, in the South Bronx Ghetto, has important implications in forming a larger understanding of the mentality of a marginalized culture. The argument that will be posited below will make this clear, and will connect the cultures of Africa and of the African Diaspora in the context of a global marginalization now becoming very evident as the west trumpets the horns and bassoons of globalization as humanity approaches the year 2000.

The first controversial aspect of this essay you might have noticed above is the usage of the term “Black” to describe individuals and groups that people with “politically correct” pretensions refer to as “African-Americans”. The phenomena of political correctness to me is a particularly annoying one, as my particular socialization context precludes me from believing the ad-hoc linguistic constructions of White liberals in this country to erase their shame concerning four hundred years of subjugation of Black Americans.

“ Callin’ me an African American,

Like everything is better then”

- Ice Cube, from “When Will They Shoot”, from The Predator

I heard that line for the first time when I was but thirteen years of age, and it has had an effect on me. Certainly, when one analyzes what Ice Cube is speaking of in this verse, and in the majority of his work, the result is an awareness of the hypocrisy of American liberals, and in turn their politically correct notions. Indeed, referring to Black Americans as “African-Americans” lends itself to the particular insular American view that all Blacks are the same, be it in the west or in Africa, and allows ideas of Black inferiority to form as the American student contemplates the turbulent history of Africa. I hope this explanation is enough to remove myself from the liberal standard of political correctness, and to placate any fears that my use of the word “Black” to describe African and Afro-diasproric is motivated by racism. I feel that I must state this here, as I have been forced to defend myself on this charge numerous times in the company of socialized, homogenized, White liberals. The most dangerous simplifications are often the ones that go unnoticed, and “Black” here does not refer to a race, but only to a skin pigmentation.

The theme of this essay will be largely a comparative one, juxtaposing Black American cultural production with the cultural production of Black America’s African ancestors. The majority of the essay will be focused on Rap music’s specific, intimate connection with African oral historiography. Nonetheless, as in all scholarly examinations, the context of the comparison must be set forth, and in this case, validated. This can be started by focusing roughly on the history of the African continent in colonial and post-colonial times, and comparing that with the history of Black America. The major aesthetic similarity here rests in the complexity of Oral historiographical traditions, and is threefold; (1) the musical notions of continuity and rupture, (2) the fluidity of mores and politics within these societies and (3) the power of the Orator, and the notion of “Orality”[1]. These will all be addressed below in some detail, but at the outset, cosmetically, the similarities are quite striking. The historical experience of African nations[2] during the colonial and post-colonial eras are marked by instability, spurring from corrupt governance, exploitation, militarism and patriarchy[3]. Taking these easily observable, albeit incomplete explanations of political turmoil in Africa during the last few hundred years, the comparison to Black America renders a similar result. The classic example of the corrupt Black Baptist preacher, stealing from the collection plate, is not a myth drawn up by Whites, it was portrayed by Blacks who felt disenfranchised within the bounds of a church setting. Certainly, marginalization occurs on a more global level when considering African states, as these are entire states being co-opted, rather than an ethnic minority within a state. However, this is indicative of the marginalization that the Black “nation” in America has experienced from the inception of the middle passage slave trade routes. The exploitation that follows marginalization is indeed experienced in both places. The logic of that assertion is quite simple, and does not need to be independently verified by a published academic. A group in the numerical minority can be constructed as a threat by the powers that be, and they serve the role of the authority’s much needed scapegoat class. When the economy fails, they can be blamed for insidious proliferation of the job market, when there are terrorist activities on the part of some members of a group, the entire group can receive an extrapolated blame. Essentially, to cover up official incompetence. This occurs in the context of America where all Blacks are homogenized into a race and oppressed, and in Africa, where enemies of the state and the kinship group currently with the reigns of the state’s power are oppressed. For all these reasons, the Black American and African social experience in concurrent time periods represent discontinuity, chaos (on some level) and sharp ruptures. All these are common aesthetic elements in both African oral historiography and in Black American rap music.

As I have now above given some credence to my initial premise of there being some historical contiguity between African and Afro-diasporic society, the problem of Orality in both cultures can be brought to the forefront for the remainder of the essay. The concept of Orality is a very difficult one to struggle with, but becomes clearer once one can begin to make a cross-cultural analysis of the usage of Oral historiographical devices. To be quite certain, Orality; in that the history and morals of a particular society are not recorded in a written language, but are rather carried to future generations via storytelling; is an inherently transient concept. The lack of a formal written record on events in a civilization allows for much experimentation with the truth of what actually has occurred, what the norms of social conduct are, and even who the gods of that society are. Indeed, the only morals which seem to hold over time in the African and Afro-diasporic context are the ties that bind family members. Kinship binds, for example, replicate themselves in the Afro-diasporic context as in the case the of American rap music. New tribes are formed based on geographic distinctions. More often than not, these geographic distinctions, to the trained ear of an admirer of rap music, produce distinctions in the particular oral expressions of these regions. Just as they do on the African continent[4]. The oral expressive medium also places enormous prestige on the orator himself (usually a male), and conversely places a great deal of moral responsibility on that individual. In such a context, the skill of the rhyme-teller, the charisma of his words and gestures, the support of him by locally prominent individuals and his ties to the community all are factors in the judgment rendered by his peoples. In Africa, the oral expression is often the king-making facility, and in Afro-diasporic society, a similar, albeit metaphorical facility exists. The dominant male in an Afro-diasporic community in the United States is often the local oral genius, the preacher, the MC, the community activist or the crusading Nation of Islam functionary[5]. Similarly, in Africa itself, the oral genius is analogous to the Priest, Shaman, Tribal Elder or King. Basically, this tradition is a search for a patriarch, a father figure to not only make the society’s executive decisions, but to guide it morally[6].

With that point, concerning the tie between leadership, morality and social approval, the analysis of the significance of oral expression and its particular aesthetic form can be refined one level to contextualize the relationship between religion, society, and politics. The similarities between the cross Atlantic societies of Blacks here are quite interesting, and are indicative of the greater challenges marginalized groups face in the globalization era. Among the most fundamental pretexts of western liberalism is that there ought to be a strict separation between religion and politics, and thus on some subtle level, between morality and politics. As made evident by the above section, there is no such concept ingrained in Africa, and by corollary, in Afro-diasporic society. The examples of the Preacher/activist, the poet/philosopher/king/priest, the morally minded performer, and others all suggest that not only is there a tie between religion and politics, between morality and politics, but also that this system of cultural representation and replication creates a combinatory effect in the art forms of that community. It is not uncommon, for example, for a rap musician to produce a record which is complete with grit-filled street crime tales, misogynistic tales of sexual exploits and opposing moral tracks which preach responsibility, friendship, love, and community consciousness[7]. Hence, in Oral historiography, be it commercial music or community ritual in form, is fluid, is in a constant state of flux, closely representing the morality and order structure of the communities that produce them. Additionally, this aesthetically mirrors an abstraction of what the experience of African and Afro-diasporic peoples has been since the 1700’s or so. Peaks, occasionally, valleys mostly, with roller-coaster-like transitions connecting the highs and lows. The aesthetics of this type of musical presentation will be delved into shortly.

Before initiating the formal discussion of aesthetics, I find a need to address the complicated implications of the importation of African oral expression into the North American Black experience. First, and most importantly, there is a very specific reason why Blacks in America view themselves as Blacks, and their primordial instincts have been shifted away from the more tribal basis of identity in Africa. The reason, of course, is that they have been collectively labeled as such by the remainder of society. Similarly, in the context of scapegoating and marginalization processes, the primordial instincts of the group begins to function. In the case of Black America, this type of soul searching and nationalist movements have in some way been focused on the glory, at least the perceived glory, of Africa[8]. Examples which come to mind quickly enough are the Liberia project, Marcus Garvey’s emigration to Africa movement and the Nation of Islam. But the discovery of “Roots” by Black America has not yielded straightforward results, as Black Americans have not moved into the mode of thought of a Tribal/Kinship oriented value system in the African sense of it. This altered trajectory is due to the point above, that Blacks have been categorized en masse in America. The case of colonialism in Africa tells a similar story concerning ethnic identification. When European colonists labeled a person from X region as belonging to XY tribe, eventually over time the affiliation to X region gradually eroded and the identity of XY tribe come in full force, to capture that individual’s imagination and loyalties. This process occurred in America as well, although the institution of Slavery galvanized the process due to the institutionalized practice in that trade of scattering families[9]. The resulting mental sensation of anonomie in Black Americans is yet to be erased. Thus, the observer of these trends is left to ponder about the implications of the importation of African oral traditions and the usefulness of these primordial gropings in the context of the advancement of Black people in America.

Taking in all the previous arguments of this essay, my answer to the implied question concerning the usefulness of rap music as a form of cultural production in America is a resounding affirmation. Indeed, I feel that rap music not only is a unique and wonderful art form, but it is in itself a metaphor for a movement of urban renewal in Black America. As I have spent some considerable effort to critically examine the context of what rap music represents generally, and what its own particular roots are, I will now move on to a more directed discussion of what I find fascinating and important about rap music’s aesthetics generally. The discussion here will begin on the basis of communal identity in Black America indicated above, the categorizing of Blacks as a cultural monolith, and the independent archaeology of that cultural identity. The often controversial technique utilized by rap music producers, sampling, is not as simplistic as it seems, you see. The talents of musical engineers and disc jockeys in the genre border on the talent of an individual composing other, more formalized (in a western, order-driven sense) musical styles. When the uninitiated observer listens to a rap song which contains a sample, often the reaction is negative, and is characterized by what the observer in this case might roughly characterize as intellectual property theft. The rap producer has a very different take on this. In the cultural forms of African oral historiography, the most important aesthetic tool to prove one’s own legitimacy as an artist, political actor or religious authority, is to “invoke the gods”. In this sense, the practice of sampling roughly corresponds to an invocation of supernatural forces[10]. It is a form of cultural and artistic archaeology, and the gods giving their “blessing” are major influences on rap music. The most prominently sampled artists are often the best of Soul music from the 1950’s through the 1970’s, and Blues artists who predate Rock and Roll music’s revolution in the 1950’s and 1960’s. In fact, a different type of economic arrangement has blossomed around this concept, where the godfathers and mothers of today’s inner city sounds are not averse to allowing sampling of their work. In the case of Parliament Funkadelic, front man George Clinton has never taken any action against the numerous rappers who have sampled his work, as he not only receives a nominal fee for the sampling, but it has revitalized his records and career through greater commercial exposure[11]. This proves to some extent the rap producer’s claim that sampling is “like music school in the ghetto”[12]. Indeed, this is cultural reproduction and replication, a move into the past to search out an identity for a lost flock of West Africa.

This calling of names to legitimize one’s prowess extends into the realm of the oral delivery of the lyrics of rap music. In the same way that sampling of music tracks is a respectful act as well as a seeking for approval, when a rapper gives respect to his dead friend whom the neighborhood loved, the same end of legitimacy is what he seeks[13]. This practice of a recitation of supporters orally is also characteristic of oral traditions in Africa, and their aesthetic maneuvers. There are a plethora of rap songs which contain biographical material on dead companions, famous black leaders, other prominent rappers and other new Black American “gods”. Often, the persons cited as influences are martyrs for a cause, for a family or for being murdered by whites in racism. Following the Rodney King incident in Los Angeles, and their resultant (highly justified) riots, the rappers previously castigated as horrible prophets of doom and destruction by the white mass-media gained a new found respect in America, and now occupy a valued position of social critic, community activist/leader, etc. This type of social climbing mirrors the fluidity of African political arrangements, as the rapper is an almost Oracle-like force, predicting the demise of the old way of thought. To quote Ice Cube once again, on the issue of the riots in L.A. specifically:

“Tearin’ Shit up with Five-Shooters

Looters

Now I got a Laptop computer

I told you it would happen and heard it

Read it

But all you could call me was anti-Semitic

Regret it, nope

Said it, yup

Listen to my big black boots as stomp “

-Ice Cube, from “Tear this Motherfucker up, from The Predator

Now, Ice Cube is a respected film star, musician and record company mogul. But what find most interesting in the presentation of this verse is the mention of theft of a laptop computer. Firstly, the fact that Ice Cube could only conceptualize stealing a laptop computer, and not purchasing one suggests that even the Black stars are somewhat unconnected with the globalization of information. Secondly, in the context of the looting in the aftermath of the first Rodney King police brutality trail, the theft of a laptop computer, and the myriad of other expensive goods looted at the time, suggests that looting is as much about material imperatives as it is about socio-political ones. The global context does not fit well with the community focused tradition of African and Afro-diasporic oral traditions, but in the United States, this is slowly changing. There are no less than ten major national rap music magazines, each with websites; in addition to the growing number of black-owned record labels and production houses. What the impact of globalization on rap music itself will be is yet to be seen. However, one can certainly suggest that rap music is responding, on some level to the challenges of globalization.

One of the major factors precluding a universalization of rap culture in Black America is the existence of regional rivalries between the East Coast, spearheaded by the New York scene, and the West Coast, spearheaded by the Los Angeles scene. This rivalry exploded with the murders of Tupac Shakur (West Coast) and Notorious B.I.G. (East Coast) in the last three years. Each man was at the time a multi-platinum selling artist, and each man had been attacked several times in a brief period of time with firearms, both finally losing their lives. Both camps blamed each other for the murders and Tupac Shakur’s former boss at Death Row records, Marion Knight, is spending his life in jail for ordering the murder of Notorious B.I.G. There are many rappers who are seeking to reconcile this disturbing trend of irrational hatred (Tupac and Biggie were very close friends at one point), but these efforts are not broadcast with a media megaphone through the largest commercial outlets. Indeed, one of the major critiques offered by rappers is on the coverage of their art in the mass media, and how they are incessantly portrayed as criminals[14]. Perhaps the tribal, regionally based, kinship aesthetic has been inadvertently imported from Africa as well.

In final sum, the connections between rap music and the oral historiographical traditions found in Africa are indeed quite striking. Does it mean that Black people everywhere are the same? No, it doesn’t. The development of rap music as a cultural and musical archaeology for a group of people, Black Americans, with a seemingly lost identity in America, is better, and more sensible means of explaining its rise. Nowadays, the global dynamic of rap music as a music of oppressed peoples worldwide, of teenagers, of minorities and others, has proven that Black people are not the only ones making this type of music. The protest ethic in this type of music, and the war party style drums and basslines that figure so prominently is its production have a profound effect on its trained listeners. As Sister Souljah, a prominent female rapper in the 1980’s stated once, “if you can’t hear the war cry, if you can’t hear the children gone mad, you missed the jam”. As the rap movement has reached a point where it can be accepted as a permanent part of western pop culture, the arguments seem to be gaining more legitimacy, and people who casually listen to the music in passing through MTV, the radio and BET (Black Entertainment Television) are not, in general, quite as quick to castigate it as rip-off work (in the case of sampling) and as glorified criminality (in the case of Gangster rap). Only time will tell if this entire essay is a project in wishful thinking, but the evidence is available to analyze and reach similar conclusions. Certainly, the best rappers are growing musically and lyrically, and now craft their raps to fit a different context consisting of the threat of global capitalism, racism in new more subtle forms (made evident by the heavy criticism in rap music of white liberals and the “P.C.” movement), and the apparent moral bankruptcy of Black leaders of a previous era (Jesse Jackson, Calvin Butts, Dionne Warwick among others). One particular verse, from my favorite rapper, a member of my favorite rap group, is quite telling of the revolution that is now underway in redefining rap for another era, and I will close this essay with the text of that particular verse. Thank you for affording me the opportunity to express my thoughts on this subject, and for patiently reading through them.

“Baby did you hear that? Yeah baby I heard it too

Look out the window, golly the sky is electric blue

Mama Earth is dyin’ and cryin’ because of you

Raining cats and jackals all shackles disintegrate to residue

Silly mortals haven’t a clue

As to what the fuck is going on

I’m on the telephone

Dialing the Dungeon

This is Dre

Bring the MP and the SP

Meet me at the center of the Earth and travel carefully

Baby grab the baby ‘cause baby it ain’t much time

Mama Earth is tossin’ and turnin’ and that’s a sign

Omega nigga IFO’s are landing in Decatur

Hope I’m not over your head but if so you will catch on later

Play the track, guess she could not take it anymore

Raping her heavenly body like a ho, coochie sore

From niggas constantly fucking her

Never loving her

Never showing appreciation, bustin’ nuts in her face when they’re done”

Andre Benjamin, of the duo Outkast, from “Da Art of Storytellin’ Part 2”, from Aquemini

Bibliography

- Rose, Tricia. Black Noise. 1994

- Headley, Bernard D. “Black on Black Crime: The Myth and the Reality”. Crime and Social Justice. 1983

- Roberts, John Storm. Black Music of Two Worlds. 1974

- Chernoff, John Miller. African Rhythm and African Sensibility: Aesthetics and Social Action in African Musical Idioms. 1979

Partial Discography

- A Tribe Called Quest. People’s Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm. 1989. Jive Records

- Aceyalone. A Book of Human Language. 1998. Project Blowed Recordings

- D.J. Shadow. Entroducing. 1996. Mowax International Recordings

- Freestyle Fellowship. Innercity Griots. 1993. Island Records

- Ice Cube. The Predator. 1992. Priority Records

- Outkast. Aquemini. 1998. LaFace Records

- Outkast. ATLiens. 1996. LaFace Records

- Parliament Funkadelic. The Best of Parliament. 1995. Polygram Records

- Snoop Doggy Dogg. Doggystyle. 1993. Death Row Records

- Tupac Shakur. Greatest Hits. 1998. Death Row Records

The purpose of this listing of albums is to give credit to the influential artists whose wonderful musical presentations drove me to write this essay in defense of rap music in a world that often misunderstands it. This essay will be shown to many people someday, hopefully, and the oft-mentioned concept of being a “trained listener” as opposed to a “casual listener” is what I hope this essay imbues the reader with. This is not an attempt to force an acquired taste on anyone, rather it is a medium for making sense of all the violence, misogyny, racism and paranoia concerning government that dominates rap music. Basically, the real words are not being said, and the words which are given utterance to are merely a guide to the rich artistic tradition of rap music as a unique music in the unique context of the state of Black America.

[1] Rose, Tricia. Black Noise. 1994. Pages 64-66

[2] By nations I mean nations of people. I am using the political science definitions of nations, states, and other related concepts.

[3] Headley, Bernard D. Crime and Social Justice. 1983. Page 53

[5] Chernoff, John Miller. African Rhythm and African Sensibility: Aesthetics and Social Action in African Musical Idioms. 1979. Page 140

[8] Roberts, John Storm. Black Music of Two Worlds. 1974. Pages 202-204

[12] Ibid. II. Rose. Page 65. Quote given by Grandmaster Flash, of Harlem, New York.