- Originally published in the Rocky Mountain News (Denver, CO) on February 18, 2005. Copyright 2005 Denver Publishing Company
By: Mark Brown, Rocky Mountain News
It's
the lineup hip-hop lovers might have in their wildest dreams: the Sugar
Hill Gang, Kurtis Blow, Naughty By Nature and Kool Mo Dee, topped off
by Public Enemy. Saturday's Legends of Hip-Hop concert at the Fillmore
is one show that uses the word legend correctly.
Public Enemy generally doesn't do this stuff, but entrepreneur/longtime Will Smith collaborator Charlie Mack pulled it together.
"We
don't do one-offs, but this is an interesting area to build," Public
Enemy rapper Chuck D. says. "Charlie Mack is trying to organize a
structured, hip-hop legends concert series, trying to add that tier."
And that's vitally important if hip-hop as a genre is going to not only survive but have any overall cultural meaning.
While
hip-hop is becoming one of the dominant forces in modern music, it's
not treating itself with the respect it deserves, says Chuck D., the
man who's single-handedly credited with bringing rap to the mainstream
while creating some of the most lasting yet incendiary music of the
modern era.
"If hip-hop is supposed to be
the music of the young world, it's very important not to treat it like
a hustle," he says from his New York home.
"When
it comes down to rap, not only do the people within the circle treat it
like a hustle, but everyone in rap and hip-hop treats it like hustle
music, something that's disposable."
The
blame lies with the media (which still discounts the music), big
corporations (which exploit the music without understanding it) and
blacks themselves (who sell themselves short in the genre they created).
"It's just how black people
are still treated in this country. Because we're treated like that, we
give in and treat ourselves as something of the moment. You see more
white kids at a blues festival than black people.
You know that something's gotta be wrong," Chuck D. says. "The things
we create are not being revered. Why is Eric Clapton the (bomb) and
Eric Gale is not?
"That's what the NBA is
about. It'd be cool if we paralleled off some of the marketing of the
NBA. There's no Dr. J/Michael Jordan when it comes down to hip-hop
respectability. The league brings the past, present and future to the
table."
Given that hip-hop is an ever-evolving genre, it takes some work, says Chuck D. (real name Carlton Ridenhour).
"(Hip-hop)
was always rebelling against the status quo," he says. "If three people
decide to wear their pants baggy and braid their hair up and the rest
of the crowd didn't, that was considered hip-hop. Once everybody starts
to do it, the conformity of it all makes whoever goes against that be
hip-hop. When we see Jay-Z wear a suit, he's being rebellious to the
status quo."
With its groundbreaking
records of the '80s, Public Enemy was once more than the status quo -
it was what every other rapper aspired to be.
"We
look at ourselves as the Rolling Stones of rap. The Rolling Stones are
an event. Public Enemy is an event," Chuck D. says. The Stones don't
make an impact on the charts with new records these days yet retain
loyal fans, he notes. "We're not going to be in the same circles of
publishing and recording as Nelly. Just as you wouldn't compare Green
Day to the Rolling Stones."
For Chuck D.,
it's all about communication, whether it was through Public Enemy
classics such as It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back and Fear
of a Black Planet or other avenues. New music continues to come out,
including the recent single MKLVFKWR. He also did a full-time talk show
on Air America Radio during the presidential election and still does an
online top-20 rap countdown through AOL. PublicEnemy.com and
RapStation.com have his fingerprints all over them.
Chuck D. hopes his work on radio and AOL helps fill a glaring need for intelligent discussion about the genre.
"Radio,
when it's presenting hip-hop, has always done it wack. . . . The
information and facts need to be delivered about the genre and the
music," he says.
"People just blindly go
out and buy music or are blindly swept into it without talk. DJs used
to talk about music. They do talk about music when it comes down to
classic rock. They don't do that in rap music and black music."
His radio work "allows you to get a voice of clarity out there," he says.
Sometimes that voice turns against rappers, even as he hangs with them and they revere him.
"Hip-hop
grosses a lot, but it doesn't mean it's satisfactory to the genre and
history of it," he says. It's disjointing for him to hear young rappers
praise him, then create music that's lyrically the opposite of the
things Public Enemy stood for.
"A lot of
people are doing things that are lyrically removed from what they truly
believe. They look at the nodding acceptance from their marketing
company to continue to make the dollars, and it's a dollar game," he
says.
"(Music) is a big extension of what
you believe in your soul. When it comes down to it, I have a lot of
doubt that a lot of these cats really believe what they say. Are they
doing it for their companies? They might be being paid so well, but . .
. I don't believe they're doing it for the sake of art as (much as)
they're doing it for the sake of their pockets. That's cultural
strip-mining."
That's why hip-hop has to start treating itself with the respect and sense of purpose that other genres of music do, he says.
"Classic
rock is wonderful. That's why you'll see a teen-ager wear a Led
Zeppelin T-shirt. I ask you 'why?' When a 14-year-old kid buys a
Beatles record, you wonder, 'How the (blazes) did that happen?' I get a
lot of e-mail from kids 14 years old saying, 'I like Public Enemy.'
This is why an organization of old-schoolers needs to be in place. You
need fewer entertainers and more structural-administration people in
our industry."