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Hip-hop you don't stop

Last year was an active, controversial 365 days for African Ameri
cans and the nation at large. 1995 saw the return of Marion
Barry as D.C.'s mayor, the acquittal of O.J. Simpson, Mumia Abu-Jamal's fight for his life, and the bombing of an Oklahoma City federal building.

The nation heard FBI accusations that Malcolm X's daughter plotted to kill Nation of Islam leader Louis Farrakhan, cheered or criticized Mike Tyson's release from prison and decried a Republican-led "Contract with America" (or, the "Contract on Blacks, the Poor, the Environment and Education").

It should therefore come as no surprise that `95 -- the year of Whitewater (what exactly is all the fuss about anyway?), Jake Baker (the University's ex-resident computer-porn freak), the Million Man March (400,000, my ass) and the black woman's anthem (Mary J. Blige's "Not Gonna Cry") -- was also a whirlwind year for the rap/hip-hop industries.

Never have the industry's demographics been so altered. Not since the 1990 attacks on Luther Campbell and 2 Live Crew by politicians and police departments has the industry been so ruthlessly demonized across party, race and gender lines.

Yet, for the many knock-downs rappers, DJs and their works have been dealt, never has the rap music enterprise stood on such solid ground. Priority Records (which released albums by such artists as NWA, Mack 10 and Geto Boys) and Def Jam Records (with Method Man, Domino and LL Cool J) celebrated their 10th anniversaries. With increasing airplay, outstanding retail returns and a constantly growing audience which, more than ever, transcends party, race and gender lines, rap music has been able to weather every storm blown its way.

The award for biggest bag of hot air goes without reservation to C. Delores Tucker. President of the National Polotical Congress of Black Women, Tucker is calling for a ban on gangsta rap and a return to the days before gangsta rap when, it seems, women weren't degraded, drive-by shootings didn't occur and cocaine and marijuana were never thought of. Of course, the B.S. dumping from her lips has found an audience with some Congressional members who just can't seem to get people to realize that rap is the cause of every social problem from poverty to drug abuse to President Lincoln's asassination.

How stupidly ironic that a body of people who can't go even one electoral year without having half its members under investigation for some type of ethics violation so desperately wants to safeguard good ol' American morals against CDs. How sickening that a body composed almost exclusively of older, wealthy white men considers itself a capable judge of music born in poor, mostly black-populated regions more likely to house a dump site than a governmental effort to reduce crime and poverty.

Yet many of America's most spineless succumbed to the political pressure in 1995. "Yo! MTV Raps" has been shortened, given the worst time slots and all but cancelled. Hosts Dr. Dre and Ed Lover were fired (but we still have BET). Time Warner shocked many when it decided to sell back its 50 percent interest in Interscope Records, which distributes the controversial Death Row Records.

Even Detroit's 96.3 FM sold out, cancelling its hip-hop format to play alternative junk exclusively. Now Detroit has just one station which plays solely popular urban music, but it has three different country-music stations. What's wrong with this picture?

When they couldn't touch the music, politicians sic-ed their law enforcement agencies on rappers. Last year alone, Craig Mack was charged with inciting a riot in Queens, NY, Spice 1 served 30 days on a trumped-up weapons charge, immigration officials tried to deport an already incarcerated Slick Rick, Biggie Smalls was arrested for assault and 2PAC was imprisoned for sexual assault (he's now out pending an appeal). District attorneys are also pointing their smoking guns on Snoop Doggy Dogg (his trial began last month).

The attacks keep coming, but the music keeps surviving and thriving because people use a little common sense and figure that Bob Dole and Jesse Helms aren't the best judges of modern-day music. This industry's bouyancy comes from its malleability. While many other music genres seem locked into set definitions, hip-hop is dynamic, the sounds of any year are almost distinct from those of the previous one.

How in `94 could anyone foretell the coming of a guy who, because he could talk really fast and say words like "esophogarus," would become one of the year's greatest up-and-coming rappers? E-40 did in the West Coast, and eventually Anytown, U.S.A., with his debut record "In a Major Way."

Who would've guessed that the sing-along rap style Domino popularized in 1993 with singles like "Ghetto Jam" and "Sweet Potato Pie" would return again to the forefront? It did in `95 thanks to "This Is the Shack," the debut release by The Dove Shack.

Even the idea of gangsta R&B artists, which sparked a little bit in `93 with DRS's "Gangsta Lean," returned in 1995 with the trio G.A.T. (the album sucks) and now L.V. (ain't heard his stuff yet).

We even saw rap music mixing with other urban musical forms in ways we never dreamed. If, on January 1, 1995, I had predicted that we'd see Mariah Carey jamming with Ol' Dirty Bastard or a Notorious B.I.G./Michael Jackson duet, I would've had my music reviewer's license revoked.

It was a comeback year for the old school, though it wasn't "All Good" (coming back and staying put are very different things). "The World's Greatest Entertainer," Doug E. Fresh, returned after what seems like decades with "Play," which shows he's still one of the greatest DJs around (though "Play" has received little airplay). Fresh keeps trying to stay old school in a new-school world, and no one wants to hear it. Special Ed came back, but his stuff is so stupid I won't waste your time or my article space discussing it. Also, Bushwick Bill's (Geto Boys fame) first solo, "Phantom of the Raptra," came out in 1995 in case you didn't know. The CD's alright, but BB's no Scarface.

Grand Puba ("2000") and MC Breed ("Return of the Big Baller") returned in `95, too. I really wish these guys would sit down and actually produce something hype (they're both capable) instead of just releasing a new album every month just to see their faces on shelves. M.C. Hammer released another album, "V." So what.

LL Cool J did a good job with his newest LP "Mr. Smith," but the year's greatest comeback came from the green-eyed bandit himself, Erick Sermon. His sophomore LP, "Double or Nothing," released in `95, was the rocket that launched him out of almost certain obscurity.

Pharcyde and Onyx came back -- mad changed. On "Bizarre Ride II the Pharcyde," they sounded like they were on acid; now with "Labcabincalifornia," Pharcyde sound like they's chillin' on weed. Onyx's hyper-flow on "Backdafucup" was replaced by the almost suicidal-sounding cuts in their sophomore LP "All We Got Iz Us." These groups are following a general trend away from the happy, lighthearted, or even intermediate, sounds of past hip-hoppers (Kid N' Play, Tribe Called Quest) and towards a more somber lyrical game.

It was a stellar year for the Wu-Tang Clan from Shaolin Land. Damn near everybody released a solo album, and all of it dominated rap nationwide while still remaining nested in its East Coast home. Method Man's cracked-up crazed "Tical," Ol' Dirty Bastard's grunt-filled "Return to the 36 Chambers," Raekwon and Ghost Face Killa's rough-and-tumble "Only Built 4 Cuban Linx," Genius' psychotic "Liquid Swords" ... did I get everybody ... they just the bomb.

His 1994 debut "Ready to Die" propelled Notorious B.I.G. to fame. While not having released another LP since, Biggie Smalls continues to rank among the most popular rappers due to the zillions of singles he recorded last year. Now, his Junior Mafia has made a name for itself with "Conspiracy," which features the widely-heard "Player's Anthem." Lil' Kim's mic contributions to this album gave her an especially big name in what will go down as a lousy year for women in rap. The only big thing involving a female rap artist of any interest in `95 was when Queen Latifah was car jacked.

The rap community also felt the sting of many hip-hop losses. David Cole, producer of C&C Music Factory and the "Bodyguard" soundtrack, died of spinal meningitis; Former X-Clan member Anthony Hardin passed due to complications from pneumonia. Heart problems took Mercury of the Force MD's and the Human Beat Box, formerly of the Fat Boys. Rap legend Eazy-E, a man whom mountains of hatred and attacks couldn't destroy, succombed to complications from the AIDS virus.

Perhaps the biggest political changes for the rap industry in `95 -- something that has been snowballing for some years -- has been the East and West Coast and the growing appeal of socially conscious rap lyrics. East/West rap wars pitting Scarface's successors against followers of N.W.A. have been replaced by rappers refusing to show any coastal alliance. Now, Notorious B.I.G. macs the Bay area while Too $hort draws listeners along the East Coast.

Yet the end of this period of geographic division won't be the end all. It simply clears the way for open realization of the line of demarcation between the North and South. While Northern Yankees seem to be drawn to somber gangsta (whatever that is) and socially conscious rap, inhabitants of the former Confederacy seem much more attracted to the shake yo' ass beats inspired by 2 Live Crew. Few people from up north have heard of such artists as Kilo, DJ Smurf or Lil' Mac & DJ Trick. Yet these guys are getting much airplay in the Southern states.

Whatever constitutes gangsta rap to you, fewer and fewer rappers see themselves as being under its influence, while others who hold onto the title have no business doing so. Like Bone Thugs-n-Harmony. Sure, these Eazy-E protigés have garnered a mass following, but gangsta rappers? The only true gangsta rappers out there are Spice-1 and Scarface.

Rappers have rightfully refused to be fall guys and shoulder the blame for a myriad of social problems that have been plaguing this nation before rap or hip hop were ever thought about. On the same vein, however, many rappers are rightly acknowledging and accepting their responsibility to educate, inform and at times even serves as moral guides. Such rappers have always existed, ever since the days of Gil Scott-Heron's declaration that "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised." Ice Cube does it, as does Paris and KAM. Even Ice-T did it a couple of times. KRS-One does it, and when he does it, does he ever do it. Sadly, he doesn't receive the kind of mad props he deserves for speaking some hellie stuff on such a philosophical platform.

In the nine-nickel many consumers faced rappers who'd radically altered their rap style to a more socially conscious form. When Tupac Shakur released "Me against the World" last year, no one was prepared for the painfully honest emotionalism his lyrics displayed. Cuts like "Dear Mama," "So Many Tears" and the title track put 2PAC on a new level. Maybe jail did it to him; maybe it was his then-girlfriend/now-wife Keisha Morris. Whatever it was, I hope the change continues.

Change is more often good than not. It lets us know that we're alive, that our music is alive and still kicking. Change attests to creativity and an extension of one's work into an entirely new realm. That's the beauty of rap and hip hop -- they fit no mold, and what lies in their future is never definite. Innovation brought rap from the days of the L.A. Dream Team to the time of Smif-N-Wessun; that same vision will take the industry even further.

Contrary to the claims of suburban America, rap is important. It gives a voiceless people a powerful means of communication; it gives an identity to the places and people of an underclass America many would sooner pretend doesn't exist. Hip-hop has a heart and a soul shared by many of a multitude of races, classes, religions and the like. No other musical type has brought such a large and diverse audience together.

Rap music tells of hate but speaks of a longing for love. It brings to life the despair many live in but tells the story in a tongue of hope. It offers an escape from the pain and sorrow in which it is born. It speaks of a people's rage, humor and humanity. It rides a series of dichotomies, protected by those who prefer to understand its symbol-loaded nuances rather than judge its outward appearance. Hip hop, gangsta, hardcore, booty-bass, political, socially conscious -- rap is a most diverse and prolific child of the African American nation. And no matter how hard the proudly ignorant try and trample it, the spirit of hip-hop will never be destroyed.