Bad vs. Good
(In a new article series on Ske.is – entitled Bad vs. Good – we will attempt to articulate those aspects of rap music that we admire, and those that we do not.)
Love can never be uncritical love.
When we observe a person whom we love, behaving in a way that endangers his or her well being (or the well being of others), reputation or prospects, it is our duty to demonstrate our love through action, intervention or critique (just as it is our duty to express our love through commendation, when a person whom we love acts admirably).
And so, as it is with Hip Hop music as it is with everything else – it being comprised of both darkness and light, ugliness and beauty, integrity and corruption – we feel that it is our duty to act according to the aforementioned precept by expressing both our critique and commendation of the culture in the interest of improving its general state.
Thus.
THE BAD: The tired objectification of women in Snoop Dogg’s latest effort, Toss It.
George Orwell’s 1984 was recently adapted for the stage in Iceland. The play (and the novel, of course) explores, in part, the effects of power on language – on the way that the ideology of a totalitarian regime infiltrates language so as to distort the citizenry’s perception of reality.
With these ideas fresh in our minds (we saw the play last Sunday), it was difficult not to shudder at Snoop Dogg’s dubious (if not downright repulsive) moral attitude in Toss It, released last Friday, and how it evoked little response from commentators on Youtube, who, owing undoubtedly to the enduring hegemony of machismo in rap music, must have perceived the rapper’s ignoble worldview as entirely unremarkable – just as the oppressed masses in Orwell’s masterpiece were blinded by Newspeak.
A quick decontextualization of the lyrics, however, and it’s hard not to revolt: A middle-aged male (Snoop is almost 46 years old) repeatedly refers to the daughter of his acquaintance as a bitch and a hoe and then boasts of his intentions to bed her:
Old ass ni$#a in the club full of young hoes /
Smoking backwoods with the Migos /
…
Man these hoes are astounding /
She say she went to school with my young son /
Fuck around and get popped with the bop gun /
Cute lil’ bitch /
Told me that her daddy was a Eight-Trey Crip /
I did time with the ni$#a, four months /
Cut to the chase lil’ bitch, you wanna fuck? /
‘Cause if you do, this’s what’s gon’ pop /
No pictures and no Photoshop /
Just get your lean and soda pop /
Get with the program /
Jump in the bro-ham (biatch) /
It evokes something of Humbert Humbert’s pedophilia in Lolita (of course, Snoop may very well be within his legal limits here), however, in stead of Humbert Humbert’s eloquent, often times poetic, rationalizations for his depraved longings – we get their opposite: the inarticulate machismo of a man who feels not the slightest need to vindicate his thoughts or actions to the (enabling) audience.
THE GOOD: Lecrae’s references to ‘Pac, Angela Davis, Martin Luther King Jr., Eldridge Cleaver, etc. in Facts.
A few days ago, Donald Trump referred to NFL players who take a knee during the national anthem as „sons of bitches.“
This being the political climate – characterized, at times, by a kind of vulgar dismissal of any critique leveled at unalloyed American patriotism – it is important to be mindful of those individuals who stood against such vulgarity, ignorance and oppression in the past: Angela Davis, Eldridge Cleaver, Martin Luther King Jr., etc.
In Lecrae’s Facts listeners are presented with a very different picture of American life, as compared to that afforded by Snoop: the aging Lothario exploiting young women in the club is replaced with a thoughtful lyricist engaged in a meaningful conversation:
People wonderin’, „Is he woke or
just a new slave?“ /
Old religion, he just covered it with
new chains /
Choppin’ out the church, he ain’t real,
he fake /
He divisive, he don’t rep the King, he
just want the fame /
Aw man, now they actin’ like I’m
suddenly political /
Told me shut my mouth and get my checks
from Evangelicals /
Boy, my momma raised me, on Angela and
Eldridge /
Chuck Berry made it, but the credit
went to Elvis /
Know you never knew that, know you
think I’m too black /
I just think I’m too real, I grew up on
2Pac /
You grew up thinkin’ that the Panthers
was some terrorists /
I grew up hearin’ how they fed my momma
eggs and grits /
„‘Crae, they say you should follow
in the steps of King“ /
I say, „You’ve forgotten how they
shot him in the streets“ /
I ain’t really changed, it’s the same
old rebel /
Still a radical, I’m passionate, it’s
just another level (leggo!) /
AT told me I should fight back /
They don’t like that (they don’t) /
Just know if you rock the boat you
better have a life raft (what?) /
BJ told me I should fight back /
They don’t like that /
Just know if you rock the boat you
better have a life raft, woo! /
Hip Hop, like everything else, will never be perfect – but it isn’t perfection that we should aim for, but rather small steps toward betterment.
„A good person is that person who would become better.“
It is our hope that today’s lyricists emulate Lecrae’s thoughtfulness in Facts and eschew the tired cliches of Snoop Dogg’s Toss It.