Commentary
Music, Social Justice and Market Manipulations
An Interview with Professor Tricia Rose
By Lauren Kennedy, Staff Writer, Fish Rap Newspaper, UC Santa Cruz Revised and amended by Tricia Rose
Fish Rap Live: Mario Africa, the first guest at the recent "Speaker Blowout II" began by saying "I'm bringing revolutionary love!" and was met by enthusiastic applause. "Revolution" is a word thrown around a lot, particularly on this campus. Do you see a "revolutionary" potential in hip-hop music?
Tricia Rose: Music creates a cultural feeling of belonging and puts into coded and affirmative language the values of a given social movement. It's part of the cultural backdrop that keeps activists moving forward. But it is, for the most part, supportive. Once you place a heavy revolutionary or social agenda on music that doesn't grow organically, it's very difficult for it to survive artistically. Revolution is a very specific word that speaks to an extraordinary and very dramatic kind of social change.
FRL: What about groups like Dead Prez and The Coup who are calling for exactly that kind of social change in their lyrics?
TR: They're calling for a very abstract concept of radical social change, but they don't have an agenda. They're not soldiers in an activist movement, it's not their job to be, they're artists. People didn't listen to James Brown sing 'I'm Black and I'm Proud' and think, 'hey, I wanna become a Black Panther.' It was the other way around. Brown's music grew out of already existing sentiment that was being nurtured by the community. See, the movements were already emerging in communities, in basements, in churches, in living rooms, and music articulates what's already in motion. Then people then say 'you're right I'm Black and I'm proud.'
FRL: How has the mass media affected hip-hop culture?
TR: To expect a social revolution to emerge from artists with an elaborate record contract with a major label is...misguided. Mass media can be manipulated, but not as much as people like to imagine. Capitalist profits are driven by stable societies; they don't have an investment in social revolution. They do have an investment in marketing revolution as an idea from which they can profit. One of the big tragedies of the 1960s and 70s is that political and social movements, which had musical and cultural components have been re-imagined as a cultural movement absent of the deep political action, sacrifice and commitment to social change that was articulated by the people on the ground. Loving Jimmy Hendrix or listening to Gil Scott-Heron is not the equivalent of sitting on the front lines and being beaten senseless by police for sneaking out in the middle of the night to sign up black voters in the south. Listening to the Last Poets and identifying with their political perspective is a far cry from staffing free breakfast programs, protesting housing discrimination, losing your job, being placed under surveillance by the FBI and beaten by the police for doing so.
FRL: What role is the underground playing?
TR: The big question about the underground is: who is listening to the underground and what is being said in the underground. Related questions include: how many of the poorest black and other deeply poor folk are listening to underground? If the underground movement is based on its proximity to capital excess, higher education and all the resources and protections that flow from it, then it's a luxury of multiracial, often bourgeois, urban constituency. I have also noticed that many (virtually all) white rappers seem to be associated with the underground. What does this mean? Why are they there-- not in the mainstream of hip hop-- and what hopes can be placed on a revolution for racial justice that has this kind of racialized context? I am not saying that whites can't participate in such a revolution, but that history has shown that the vast majority of whites have a very difficult time assessing and truly giving up what scholar George Lipstiz calls, "the possessive investment in whiteness."
That doesn't mean the underground isn't enormously important for countering the excessive idiocy that's in highly visible commercialized rap. I mean, 'give me two per'? What are we talking about? How many times are we gonna sing uncritically and without anger about the focus on $200 shoes, diamonds and luxury alcohol when we have the level of exploitation and economic crisis that particularly African-Americans and other poor people of color are facing? The stories we tell ourselves reflect and produce our perceptions, desires and actions. We can't continue to say that this only reflects what cats are thinking about. This is a lie that those of pimp out the community use to profit from the game. The narratives in our popular public spaces should be if they were to reflect the full range of black people's experiences. Hip Hop stories -- at least a reasonable percentage of the time-- should be speaking to the real contours of people's lives, not replacing human connection and self worth with consumption.
Hip hop's initial spirit was about affirmation of collective self in the face of a society that despised the black and brown poor. The excesses in commercialized hip-hop have limited what we can say, how we imagine ourselves in that space and these limits are designed to normalize and celebrate our dehumanization. It is not violence in hip hop, per se, that is the problem; it is violence for what purpose; violence to tell what sort of story about desire and suffering, etc. We need to recognize the crisis in commercial hip hop, not just point to underground as a savior. Let's remember, its underground. We need to recognize that this very large space where virtually all our young people focus their creative energy and dreams for success, has been co-opted. We have to save ourselves from the penetration of market forces and its logic. We can do this and still have fun, still enjoy beautiful things. The manipulation of the mainstream can't just be limited to creating another, alternate, underground market, but responding to this one.
FRL: Chuck D talked a lot about intelligence being intimidated by nonsense. Is that what you're getting at here?
TR: That's absolutely right. The tragedy is that anyone who makes these criticisms is susceptible to being labeled as bourgeois, or a sell-out, or not a real part of the hip hop generation. This is nonsense. Of course, we have to remember that there is also a conservative movement against hip-hop that is highlighting the idiocy in hip hop because they want to beat up on anything that's 'Black' and visible as part of a larger agenda to victimize the poor and make sure that society's resources are not spent creating real social and economic equality. On the other hand, those of us who care about poor people, young people and their creative opportunities (creativity is a vital source of life and hope) often spend so much time defending hip hop that there has been a decline in expressive and creative content and increase of deeply misogynistic and senseless, violent storytelling. Some seem to be quite patronizing when they suggest 'oh, we have to defend hip-hop 'cause it's poor black kids just saying how they feel.' This approach completely denies the impact of commercial forces and the way the marketplace channels and limits profitable black expression. Every time we have another great success story like "50 cent" or Nelly, given their content, other black kids are not getting the space to counter them. Other voices are being silenced, some of who have, perhaps, a more radical agenda. There is an intelligent, committed group of people who love the spirit of hip-hop and are concerned about the ways it's being manipulated. And, we need to see this manipulation of hip hop as part of the way Blacks as a whole are being manipulated.
FRL: What about Tupac? Is he coming back this year as part of some elaborate Machiavellian scheme, or did that fool just get shot?
TR: Tupac is dead, but his spirit (both good and bad) lives on. His music is looking more and more radical and progressive in the face of what many popular - even popular gansta rappers-- out today have to say. He was considered less radical than the generation of artists out of which he came. In the context of Ice Cube, Public Enemy, etc., he seemed more supportive of a gangsta, thug life and consciousness than politically progressive one, even though those things can overlap. But now, when you look at his records in hindsight, the way in which he talks about black male pain is very important.
FRL: Do you see anything positive coming out of the mainstream?
TR: Oh, sure, there are very talented people who break through. Jay Z is a complex figure for example. I think he is a brilliant lyricist and freestyle mc, but the subjects about which he raps is depressingly limited and work to affirm high levels of misogynistic behavior. He, I feel certain, has a great deal more in his mind about which he could rap, if he was not driven by/caught up in the mandates of commercial success. (I imagine his economic stability is already in place, right?) These commercial, corporate values limit the genius in lyrical construction (not only subject matter and content). I recently read somewhere that he has to keep his rhymes simpler than he would like to, in order to keep selling large numbers of records. What about the value of developing the art form? What about developing the listening skills of the fan base, enhancing its ability to appreciate the development of the art form? What would jazz look like if its geniuses made this calculation? His calculation is right, but the values that underpin the acceptance of this reality are wrong. His songs like "Blueprint" a great song (lyrically, musically and substantively) is about realizing that building a successful life is based on love provided by the sacrifice of those who love you and care for you. Why are these songs marginalized in the mainstream? We need to explore the role of commercial radio in repressing these kinds of stories.
The market caters to the lowest common denominator, in, I might add a racist and sexist context, in order to expand market share. The consumers of hip-hop need to take seriously what they're ingesting and why it is being made so available to them. They need to see it as a political dietary matter, and not just absorb it cause it's cool or has a killing beat. Hip-hop comes with a very seductive force, it comes with the funk. You can take the rhythm section from the Isley Brothers' "Footsteps in the Dark" a song about lovers trying to keep a bond alive, despite doubt, pressures and fears and turn it into a song (as Ice Cube did) about a life of violence, killing, and exploiting women. To my mind- despite the creative importance of Cube's work, this pattern of taking songs of love and affirmation to underwrite tales of rage and violence represents a manipulation and destruction of the power of love that define funk and soul music. This doesn't mean you should lie about your pain, it means you should be honest about it-but deal with it in the context of a set of values about community affirmation and possibility. Deal with pain, anger, fear, and reach out to each other, let's not enjoy taking it out on each other. Hip-hop has a lot of potential for healing and expression of all emotions and experiences, but also a lot of potential to lie to people, to help us live distracted lives of denial and celebrate implosions of rage.
FRL: I gotta ask, what do you think of Eminem?
TR: I think he's very talented, a terrific storyteller and writer. But you don't see Eminem advancing any clearly radical social agendas- except his recent song "Mosh". He would be an ideal figure to propel serious racial politics given the freedom that whiteness affords white artists. Without the black community, though, he wouldn't have a career. And yet, being White, he's not gonna have nearly the amount of racialized backlash if the decides to get political. A black artist becomes politically radical -- in this market context-- and he's done. Eminem has a lot more leeway. He also has some questions to answer on race. Does he answer them? No. We should start expecting more from people for all the rewards we give them. If they're saying, 'hey I just want to be a great musician,' wonderful, do what you do. If they are saying that by being a rap artist that they are radical and part of a "hip-hop nation', then I want to know what they're doing with their time and energy. You're smokin' weed? You're chillin? It's not doing shit for broke people. So do something. Teach something to somebody, do something to advance your own learning. Help others aspire to more than what they have been forced to accept. Use some of your media time to talk about a 40% black male unemployment rate. Contribute funds-- have other rappers contribute funds to organizations that fight for real social change and advancement of the poor and disenfranchised.
FRL: How is internet communication and access to pirated music affecting the media manipulation of "hip-hop culture"?
TR: I think that the record industry is in a crisis and Internet communication and pirated music represents some of the risk and promise of technology to challenge those who have dominated and profited from the exchange of creative production. If these homemade, less highly marketed and produced artists have a chance, it will depend on our ability to see beyond the packaging right to the artistic value. It means that if an artist is amazing, but they don't have a glossy half-million dollar video to show us, that we don't automatically treat them as second rate. If we want to take on a pirating philosophy, there will be repercussions in our priorities and expectations; we're going to have to divest from the lure of packaging and hype. Corporate industry is going to try to co-opt everything we do, that's their job (as they see it), so you can't be looking to them for what's 'cool.' This requires thinking and analyzing, resisting and not just absorbing the nearest, most available "product". This is very hard work, I might add. Not easy to do, given just how much energy and resources corporations expend making sure that we do just the opposite.
FRL: Are you hopeful that that will happen? The forces that you're talking about rejecting in the music industry shape a lot of other areas of our lives as well.
TR: I'm hopeful and I will remain so. As a student of African-American history and culture, I can say with certainty that when the possibility for real improvement looked absolutely impossible, black folks -- working together, with intensity, vision, love and conviction-- have made unbelievable changes in the U.S.-- changes that improved the lives of many oppressed groups. Sure some people try to turn back these victories, but we are always working to win more of them. It's step by step, over and over; there is no final and total victory. It takes thousands of people over a long period of time to make change and these changes face constant resistance. This is project that never stops.
The most important gains don't lie in what appears to be a permanent victory. They lie in the process of working for, standing for, fighting for justice, love and freedom. This is where our true sustenance and power is maintained, nurtured and refined. Sure, victories help! When we think, though, that there is no point in making choices-- political, cultural, behavioral, and social-- that better the larger world, we destroy that world. We lose ground when think that because oppression has gotten worse in some ways, we should accept the spiral into self-destructive rage (especially when it is profitable to perform it, but not profitable to end the conditions that cause it). Channeling legitimate rage into collective action that will improve your life and the lives of others is part of this process of fighting for justice, love and freedom. This is an urgent project that will take the rest of our lives... It is not something we can "solve" with a burst of anger and energy; we have to cultivate lives where we are continually pursuing justice, love and freedom in our daily lives, not lives where this pursuit is an interruption, a commercial break, as it were, from our real lives.
May 2005 Santa Cruz, CA
Fish Rap Live: Mario Africa, the first guest at the recent "Speaker Blowout II" began by saying "I'm bringing revolutionary love!" and was met by enthusiastic applause. "Revolution" is a word thrown around a lot, particularly on this campus. Do you see a "revolutionary" potential in hip-hop music?
Tricia Rose: Music creates a cultural feeling of belonging and puts into coded and affirmative language the values of a given social movement. It's part of the cultural backdrop that keeps activists moving forward. But it is, for the most part, supportive. Once you place a heavy revolutionary or social agenda on music that doesn't grow organically, it's very difficult for it to survive artistically. Revolution is a very specific word that speaks to an extraordinary and very dramatic kind of social change.
FRL: What about groups like Dead Prez and The Coup who are calling for exactly that kind of social change in their lyrics?
TR: They're calling for a very abstract concept of radical social change, but they don't have an agenda. They're not soldiers in an activist movement, it's not their job to be, they're artists. People didn't listen to James Brown sing 'I'm Black and I'm Proud' and think, 'hey, I wanna become a Black Panther.' It was the other way around. Brown's music grew out of already existing sentiment that was being nurtured by the community. See, the movements were already emerging in communities, in basements, in churches, in living rooms, and music articulates what's already in motion. Then people then say 'you're right I'm Black and I'm proud.'
FRL: How has the mass media affected hip-hop culture?
TR: To expect a social revolution to emerge from artists with an elaborate record contract with a major label is...misguided. Mass media can be manipulated, but not as much as people like to imagine. Capitalist profits are driven by stable societies; they don't have an investment in social revolution. They do have an investment in marketing revolution as an idea from which they can profit. One of the big tragedies of the 1960s and 70s is that political and social movements, which had musical and cultural components have been re-imagined as a cultural movement absent of the deep political action, sacrifice and commitment to social change that was articulated by the people on the ground. Loving Jimmy Hendrix or listening to Gil Scott-Heron is not the equivalent of sitting on the front lines and being beaten senseless by police for sneaking out in the middle of the night to sign up black voters in the south. Listening to the Last Poets and identifying with their political perspective is a far cry from staffing free breakfast programs, protesting housing discrimination, losing your job, being placed under surveillance by the FBI and beaten by the police for doing so.
FRL: What role is the underground playing?
TR: The big question about the underground is: who is listening to the underground and what is being said in the underground. Related questions include: how many of the poorest black and other deeply poor folk are listening to underground? If the underground movement is based on its proximity to capital excess, higher education and all the resources and protections that flow from it, then it's a luxury of multiracial, often bourgeois, urban constituency. I have also noticed that many (virtually all) white rappers seem to be associated with the underground. What does this mean? Why are they there-- not in the mainstream of hip hop-- and what hopes can be placed on a revolution for racial justice that has this kind of racialized context? I am not saying that whites can't participate in such a revolution, but that history has shown that the vast majority of whites have a very difficult time assessing and truly giving up what scholar George Lipstiz calls, "the possessive investment in whiteness."
That doesn't mean the underground isn't enormously important for countering the excessive idiocy that's in highly visible commercialized rap. I mean, 'give me two per'? What are we talking about? How many times are we gonna sing uncritically and without anger about the focus on $200 shoes, diamonds and luxury alcohol when we have the level of exploitation and economic crisis that particularly African-Americans and other poor people of color are facing? The stories we tell ourselves reflect and produce our perceptions, desires and actions. We can't continue to say that this only reflects what cats are thinking about. This is a lie that those of pimp out the community use to profit from the game. The narratives in our popular public spaces should be if they were to reflect the full range of black people's experiences. Hip Hop stories -- at least a reasonable percentage of the time-- should be speaking to the real contours of people's lives, not replacing human connection and self worth with consumption.
Hip hop's initial spirit was about affirmation of collective self in the face of a society that despised the black and brown poor. The excesses in commercialized hip-hop have limited what we can say, how we imagine ourselves in that space and these limits are designed to normalize and celebrate our dehumanization. It is not violence in hip hop, per se, that is the problem; it is violence for what purpose; violence to tell what sort of story about desire and suffering, etc. We need to recognize the crisis in commercial hip hop, not just point to underground as a savior. Let's remember, its underground. We need to recognize that this very large space where virtually all our young people focus their creative energy and dreams for success, has been co-opted. We have to save ourselves from the penetration of market forces and its logic. We can do this and still have fun, still enjoy beautiful things. The manipulation of the mainstream can't just be limited to creating another, alternate, underground market, but responding to this one.
FRL: Chuck D talked a lot about intelligence being intimidated by nonsense. Is that what you're getting at here?
TR: That's absolutely right. The tragedy is that anyone who makes these criticisms is susceptible to being labeled as bourgeois, or a sell-out, or not a real part of the hip hop generation. This is nonsense. Of course, we have to remember that there is also a conservative movement against hip-hop that is highlighting the idiocy in hip hop because they want to beat up on anything that's 'Black' and visible as part of a larger agenda to victimize the poor and make sure that society's resources are not spent creating real social and economic equality. On the other hand, those of us who care about poor people, young people and their creative opportunities (creativity is a vital source of life and hope) often spend so much time defending hip hop that there has been a decline in expressive and creative content and increase of deeply misogynistic and senseless, violent storytelling. Some seem to be quite patronizing when they suggest 'oh, we have to defend hip-hop 'cause it's poor black kids just saying how they feel.' This approach completely denies the impact of commercial forces and the way the marketplace channels and limits profitable black expression. Every time we have another great success story like "50 cent" or Nelly, given their content, other black kids are not getting the space to counter them. Other voices are being silenced, some of who have, perhaps, a more radical agenda. There is an intelligent, committed group of people who love the spirit of hip-hop and are concerned about the ways it's being manipulated. And, we need to see this manipulation of hip hop as part of the way Blacks as a whole are being manipulated.
FRL: What about Tupac? Is he coming back this year as part of some elaborate Machiavellian scheme, or did that fool just get shot?
TR: Tupac is dead, but his spirit (both good and bad) lives on. His music is looking more and more radical and progressive in the face of what many popular - even popular gansta rappers-- out today have to say. He was considered less radical than the generation of artists out of which he came. In the context of Ice Cube, Public Enemy, etc., he seemed more supportive of a gangsta, thug life and consciousness than politically progressive one, even though those things can overlap. But now, when you look at his records in hindsight, the way in which he talks about black male pain is very important.
FRL: Do you see anything positive coming out of the mainstream?
TR: Oh, sure, there are very talented people who break through. Jay Z is a complex figure for example. I think he is a brilliant lyricist and freestyle mc, but the subjects about which he raps is depressingly limited and work to affirm high levels of misogynistic behavior. He, I feel certain, has a great deal more in his mind about which he could rap, if he was not driven by/caught up in the mandates of commercial success. (I imagine his economic stability is already in place, right?) These commercial, corporate values limit the genius in lyrical construction (not only subject matter and content). I recently read somewhere that he has to keep his rhymes simpler than he would like to, in order to keep selling large numbers of records. What about the value of developing the art form? What about developing the listening skills of the fan base, enhancing its ability to appreciate the development of the art form? What would jazz look like if its geniuses made this calculation? His calculation is right, but the values that underpin the acceptance of this reality are wrong. His songs like "Blueprint" a great song (lyrically, musically and substantively) is about realizing that building a successful life is based on love provided by the sacrifice of those who love you and care for you. Why are these songs marginalized in the mainstream? We need to explore the role of commercial radio in repressing these kinds of stories.
The market caters to the lowest common denominator, in, I might add a racist and sexist context, in order to expand market share. The consumers of hip-hop need to take seriously what they're ingesting and why it is being made so available to them. They need to see it as a political dietary matter, and not just absorb it cause it's cool or has a killing beat. Hip-hop comes with a very seductive force, it comes with the funk. You can take the rhythm section from the Isley Brothers' "Footsteps in the Dark" a song about lovers trying to keep a bond alive, despite doubt, pressures and fears and turn it into a song (as Ice Cube did) about a life of violence, killing, and exploiting women. To my mind- despite the creative importance of Cube's work, this pattern of taking songs of love and affirmation to underwrite tales of rage and violence represents a manipulation and destruction of the power of love that define funk and soul music. This doesn't mean you should lie about your pain, it means you should be honest about it-but deal with it in the context of a set of values about community affirmation and possibility. Deal with pain, anger, fear, and reach out to each other, let's not enjoy taking it out on each other. Hip-hop has a lot of potential for healing and expression of all emotions and experiences, but also a lot of potential to lie to people, to help us live distracted lives of denial and celebrate implosions of rage.
FRL: I gotta ask, what do you think of Eminem?
TR: I think he's very talented, a terrific storyteller and writer. But you don't see Eminem advancing any clearly radical social agendas- except his recent song "Mosh". He would be an ideal figure to propel serious racial politics given the freedom that whiteness affords white artists. Without the black community, though, he wouldn't have a career. And yet, being White, he's not gonna have nearly the amount of racialized backlash if the decides to get political. A black artist becomes politically radical -- in this market context-- and he's done. Eminem has a lot more leeway. He also has some questions to answer on race. Does he answer them? No. We should start expecting more from people for all the rewards we give them. If they're saying, 'hey I just want to be a great musician,' wonderful, do what you do. If they are saying that by being a rap artist that they are radical and part of a "hip-hop nation', then I want to know what they're doing with their time and energy. You're smokin' weed? You're chillin? It's not doing shit for broke people. So do something. Teach something to somebody, do something to advance your own learning. Help others aspire to more than what they have been forced to accept. Use some of your media time to talk about a 40% black male unemployment rate. Contribute funds-- have other rappers contribute funds to organizations that fight for real social change and advancement of the poor and disenfranchised.
FRL: How is internet communication and access to pirated music affecting the media manipulation of "hip-hop culture"?
TR: I think that the record industry is in a crisis and Internet communication and pirated music represents some of the risk and promise of technology to challenge those who have dominated and profited from the exchange of creative production. If these homemade, less highly marketed and produced artists have a chance, it will depend on our ability to see beyond the packaging right to the artistic value. It means that if an artist is amazing, but they don't have a glossy half-million dollar video to show us, that we don't automatically treat them as second rate. If we want to take on a pirating philosophy, there will be repercussions in our priorities and expectations; we're going to have to divest from the lure of packaging and hype. Corporate industry is going to try to co-opt everything we do, that's their job (as they see it), so you can't be looking to them for what's 'cool.' This requires thinking and analyzing, resisting and not just absorbing the nearest, most available "product". This is very hard work, I might add. Not easy to do, given just how much energy and resources corporations expend making sure that we do just the opposite.
FRL: Are you hopeful that that will happen? The forces that you're talking about rejecting in the music industry shape a lot of other areas of our lives as well.
TR: I'm hopeful and I will remain so. As a student of African-American history and culture, I can say with certainty that when the possibility for real improvement looked absolutely impossible, black folks -- working together, with intensity, vision, love and conviction-- have made unbelievable changes in the U.S.-- changes that improved the lives of many oppressed groups. Sure some people try to turn back these victories, but we are always working to win more of them. It's step by step, over and over; there is no final and total victory. It takes thousands of people over a long period of time to make change and these changes face constant resistance. This is project that never stops.
The most important gains don't lie in what appears to be a permanent victory. They lie in the process of working for, standing for, fighting for justice, love and freedom. This is where our true sustenance and power is maintained, nurtured and refined. Sure, victories help! When we think, though, that there is no point in making choices-- political, cultural, behavioral, and social-- that better the larger world, we destroy that world. We lose ground when think that because oppression has gotten worse in some ways, we should accept the spiral into self-destructive rage (especially when it is profitable to perform it, but not profitable to end the conditions that cause it). Channeling legitimate rage into collective action that will improve your life and the lives of others is part of this process of fighting for justice, love and freedom. This is an urgent project that will take the rest of our lives... It is not something we can "solve" with a burst of anger and energy; we have to cultivate lives where we are continually pursuing justice, love and freedom in our daily lives, not lives where this pursuit is an interruption, a commercial break, as it were, from our real lives.
May 2005 Santa Cruz, CA
