NOW WHAT YOU HEAR IS NOT A TEST: In 1979, an independent record producer named Sylvia Robinson released "Rapper's Delight," by the Sugarhill Gang. Although hip hop culture -- rapping, DJ'ing, beatboxing, breakdancing, graffiti -- had been germinating in the Bronx throughout the 1970s, "Rapper's Delight" marked the mainstream debut of hip hop and the beginning of a chapter in pop-culture history that would transform American music, television, fashion, language, and racial attitudes. (For compelling scholarly studies of hip hop's history, see Tricia Rose's Black Noise and the essay collection Droppin' Science.)
Although early hip hop drew on a wide range of African-American, Afro-Caribbean, and European-American cultural influences, it pulled much of its power from its deep connections to particular places, its authentic representation of black urban experiences. This power of place was vividly captured in Wild Style, a quirky 1982 film that blends a modest narrative story with striking documentary clips of MCs, DJs, graffiti artists, and breakdancers. That clip from Wild Style includes a mesmerizing sequence in which Grandmaster Flash demonstrates the turntable techniques that would help make "The Message" a breakout hit for him, Melle Mel, and the Furious Five in 1982. Over the next few years, rap continued to build an audience beyond the African-American community. Run-D.M.C. registered the first gold rap album in 1984, then achieved phenomenal "crossover" success with their 1986 remake of Aerosmith's "Walk This Way." By the late '80s and early '90s, rap had its own Grammy category, its own MTV program, and a series of platinum-selling hit records.
With hip hop's mainstream success, though, came a number of controversies. Some were creative: critics argued that rap wasn't "really music" and that its central hooks and beats were sampled from other artists, sometimes without permission or royalty payments. Other debates focused on the content of rap lyrics, with opponents (now including hip hop pioneer Russell Simmons) bemoaning what they saw as excessive glorification of misogyny, violence, and substance abuse. The most challenging arguments have dealt with hip hop's racial identity: to what extent could hip hop remain "black" when so many of its consumers (and even a handful of top artists) were white? Whatever one's opinions in these debates, it's clear that hip hop has generated more argument and analysis about its social and cultural effects than any musical genre since early rock 'n' roll.
Yet in the early 21st century, hip hop has become utterly respectable, spawning numerous prize-winning histories, a cover story in Time, and major exhibitions at the Brooklyn Museum and (eventually) the Smithsonian Institution. It also dominates the Billboard Hot 100 and what remains of the playlist at MTV. Over the years, this blog has occasionally mentioned rap and hip hop, but they haven't been regular topics of conversation. So let's throw it open to a general discussion of your histories, experiences, and opinions of hip hop, as well as your predictions for its future place in American popular culture. Decades from now, how will pop-culture historians view today's "hip hop generation"?
Next week: ratings systems and content controversies, media consolidation and corporatization, and the blurring of entertainment and reality. Hope you all have a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat.
Although early hip hop drew on a wide range of African-American, Afro-Caribbean, and European-American cultural influences, it pulled much of its power from its deep connections to particular places, its authentic representation of black urban experiences. This power of place was vividly captured in Wild Style, a quirky 1982 film that blends a modest narrative story with striking documentary clips of MCs, DJs, graffiti artists, and breakdancers. That clip from Wild Style includes a mesmerizing sequence in which Grandmaster Flash demonstrates the turntable techniques that would help make "The Message" a breakout hit for him, Melle Mel, and the Furious Five in 1982. Over the next few years, rap continued to build an audience beyond the African-American community. Run-D.M.C. registered the first gold rap album in 1984, then achieved phenomenal "crossover" success with their 1986 remake of Aerosmith's "Walk This Way." By the late '80s and early '90s, rap had its own Grammy category, its own MTV program, and a series of platinum-selling hit records.
With hip hop's mainstream success, though, came a number of controversies. Some were creative: critics argued that rap wasn't "really music" and that its central hooks and beats were sampled from other artists, sometimes without permission or royalty payments. Other debates focused on the content of rap lyrics, with opponents (now including hip hop pioneer Russell Simmons) bemoaning what they saw as excessive glorification of misogyny, violence, and substance abuse. The most challenging arguments have dealt with hip hop's racial identity: to what extent could hip hop remain "black" when so many of its consumers (and even a handful of top artists) were white? Whatever one's opinions in these debates, it's clear that hip hop has generated more argument and analysis about its social and cultural effects than any musical genre since early rock 'n' roll.
Yet in the early 21st century, hip hop has become utterly respectable, spawning numerous prize-winning histories, a cover story in Time, and major exhibitions at the Brooklyn Museum and (eventually) the Smithsonian Institution. It also dominates the Billboard Hot 100 and what remains of the playlist at MTV. Over the years, this blog has occasionally mentioned rap and hip hop, but they haven't been regular topics of conversation. So let's throw it open to a general discussion of your histories, experiences, and opinions of hip hop, as well as your predictions for its future place in American popular culture. Decades from now, how will pop-culture historians view today's "hip hop generation"?
Next week: ratings systems and content controversies, media consolidation and corporatization, and the blurring of entertainment and reality. Hope you all have a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat.
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