Whatever You Say I Am_ The Life and Times of Eminem - Anthony Bozza [89]
Race is the newest debate in the ever-evolving identity of hip-hop, and likely will be for some time as the effects of Eminem’s success are felt throughout the industry. Hopefully the discussion will bring to light the industry standards and expectations that limit what hip-hop can be. Eminem is, in this arena, as much of a lightning rod for conflicting views as he is a symbol of cultural trends. His talent, however, transcends the issues and will hopefully leave the most lasting impression on hip-hop, whether it is a public demand for a less materialistic brand of rap or a move toward more complex song-craft and unique confessional storytelling.
“To me,” says author Shelby Steele, “the thing to do is not call Eminem Elvis, it’s to compete. If he sets a new bar, meet it. That’s how music forms evolve. It has not a thing on earth to do with race. Because he is white, it is an invitation to misread the situation and talk about Elvis and the music being ripped off. You can’t put a 1955 pattern on something happening in 2002. Eminem has shown considerable respect for rap as an art form. He’s not taking it, as they did in the fifties, into some bubblegum form. He respects and identifies with it. What more can you ask? There is homophobia in his lyrics but there’s certainly no racism. Is it somehow against the law for whites to practice this? Playing the race card on Eminem will get attention and plenty of ink. People will take it seriously and anguish over it. But playing to race isn’t going to change Eminem’s standing with anyone. You can’t just call him a white boy. You have to be better than he is, you have to have a larger audience, a greater appeal—in short, you have to compete. You have to win Eminem’s audience away from him if you really want to do him damage. And you can’t do that with the race card.”
In an essay titled “State of the Art 2003,” posted on his website in December 2002, Chuck D decried the lack of wordsmanship in mainstream hip-hop, proclaiming that the newest generation of rappers care little for language and wit, the foundations of rap’s greatest lyrics. Chuck blamed the get-rich-quick attitude of rap’s support system (the major record labels) and the artists themselves—in short, the success of capitalism over art.
Many successful rappers other than the Jay-Zs and Nasirs [Nas] have shunned the basic artillery. Today we literally have rappers who simply cannot speak, much less have a limited vocabulary of 50 to 100 words.… Right now some cats have rejected the notion of using wit in words, which in “rap” certainly leads to an oxymoron.… Eminem has gained the throne of hip-hop consciousness, if you can call it that, by default. The hip-hop nation slides into settling for “dumbassification” while the opinion, wit, and words come from a white kid from the suburbs of Detroit. There’s nothing wrong with Eminem being brilliant, the kid is like a rap Roy Jones Jr. It’s just that his black peers have settled for not working as hard on the elements or skills of rap and hip-hop, choosing to dwell instead on dumb shit. This is Elvisification in a different manner.… Here, in rap, the tenants treat the condo like the projects, giving it away in the sloppy process of it all.”
Rap success today, more than ever, is judged by everyone—the artists, labels, media, and fans—in terms of units sold. This attitude has grown beyond the mission of self-improvement, betterment, and the freedom to flaunt that was inherent in early hip-hop; instead, the aesthetic of mainstream hip-hop is a glorified accumulation of goods and the necessary toughness to keep them. Rappers are hardly bashful about the pursuit: Method Man told MTV News in a February 2003 interview that if he did three movies for $5 million each, he’d drop out of music and never be heard from again. His view is entirely understandable from the social context of