Whatever You Say I Am_ The Life and Times of Eminem - Anthony Bozza [84]
“He’s the great white hope,” Snoop Dogg says. He’s the first one that’s really solid, hardcore, really commited.”
In 2002, when Eminem’s commercial gain and artistic breadth expanded further than that of any rapper in history, his achievements sparked new concern and dialogue in the hip-hop community, including a roundtable organized by The Source magazine for their March 2003 issue. In their online journals, Bay Area radio DJ and hip-hop archivist Davey D (www.daveyd.com) and rap icon Chuck D of Public Enemy (www.publicenemy.com), in very informative columns, praised Eminem’s take on hip-hop but also highlighted, as both have been doing for years, the conditions inside and outside the black hip-hop community that have reduced the art of rapping to a commerce of detrimental imagery. Chuck D pointed out what was true when he wrote “Don’t Believe the Hype” in 1988: The thug imagery of rappers sensationalized by the media and beloved of the sex-and-violence-hungry American public has eroded hip-hop culture by turning a negative image of blacks into profit, and blacks eager to cash in have willingly participated. Davey D, in an entry titled “Is Eminem the New Elvis?,” related that the debate about whites in hip-hop is not new but is more heated now that hip-hop has become a multibillion-dollar industry and a viable career choice for so many minority Americans. He related his experience in the radio industry over the past decade, which was that as white tastes turned to hip-hop and it became more profitable for radio stations, minorities often played the role of puppets of authenticity for the white corporations that were actually in control. With the option to put a white face on hip-hop, Davey D wrote, white advertisers will, and that is the danger. He compared Eminem not to Elvis but to Larry Bird, the one great white basketball player in the NBA throughout the eighties.
“Like Bird, [Eminem] respects the game and has paid his dues. There’s no denying that. Cats in hip-hop know that Eminem was out there getting dirty like everyone else. Like Bird, he’s good. He’s frustratingly good.… Because Larry Bird was this iconic figure that could do no wrong in the media, as a result he became the scorn of a lot of cats in the ’hood while simultaneously garnering throngs of enthusiastic fans—mostly white—who now had someone running up and down the court who they could identify with. Bird was the man you loved to hate but had to respect because there was no denying his skills. Bird maintained his own style of play. If you recall, everyone in the NBA at that time was colorful. They were flashy. They personified the bling bling of their day. Bird was the exact opposite. He wasn’t as colorful, he wasn’t as flashy, but he was always in the winner’s circle.… At the end of the day, whether you like him or not, Larry Bird was someone who you had to give it up to. Eminem is someone you have to give it up to. He plays the game. He plays the game well and will be around for a while. But Eminem being who he is does not change the racial dynamics that are always at work in America. Let’s keep our eye on the prize and really direct our rage at the machine.”
American culture (and society for that matter) on a mass scale is corporate owned, defined, and controlled; a symbiotic interplay between advertising and product, from politicians to Pop Tarts. The influence of race on the public’s acceptance of an artist or art form is subtle, tied up with economics and played as such by those in power, who remain very