The highly controversial Puff Daddy accepts the Rap Artist of the Year award from
Billboard magazine in 1997, three years before he was implicated in a nightclub shooting
in New York.
Who is more responsible
for influencing the public: the radio station with a million listeners or the artist
that the station chooses to play? |
Who is to blame for the
violence associated with hip-hop? Media sensationalism, money and stereotypical readings
of this pop culture’s complexity
 January
14, 2000, Oakland, California. It was with eager anticipation that more then 12,000
people descended upon the Oakland Coliseum to see rap superstar Juvenile and his
Cash Money Click. The musicians were at the top of the charts, while their songs
and videos were being played on radio and TV stations across the country. Earlier
in the day, they made a jovial appearance at KMEL, the area’s leading music radio
station. Joking with fans, they promised to give the performance of a lifetime. Little
did we know what was in store.
Around 11 o’clock that night, local TV shows were interrupted by frantic reports
of mayhem at Oakland Coliseum. Horrific pictures seemingly depicting groups of thuggish
young men beating up helpless concert-goers plastered TV screens as more than 100
police officers in riot gear swooped on the Coliseum. The show was halted and the
sold-out crowd told to go home, without refunds for their $50-tickets. A fight had
broken out, involving about a dozen men.
The aftermath was swift and damaging. Local club owners pointed to the Coliseum fiasco
as an excuse not to host similar events. For example, the prestigious Gavin Music
Convention was scheduled to take place in the Bay Area the following month. Plans
were well underway to organise several large hip-hop showcases. They were all unceremoniously
cancelled. In fact, the hype surrounding the Coliseum event spread well beyond California.
Concert venue owners from across the country called Oakland police officials to gauge
whether or not they should host similar concerts. Yet many people saw the Coliseum
management as being ill prepared. They were understaffed and therefore slow to let
people into the venue (which raises tensions) and, more importantly, slow to respond
once the trouble broke out. This criticism was barely considered, however, in the
public hearings subsequently organised on a possible moratorium on rap concerts.
The
backlash resulting from isolated events
Making matters
worse, the incident occurred at a rough time for rap because some of its superstars,
including Puff Daddy and Jay-Z, had been involved in extremely violent incidents.
Puff made international headlines when he fled a shooting in a New York City nightclub.
Police later found an unregistered gun inside his car and arrested him in late December
last year. The bad news came on the heels of another dramatic arrest: Grammy award
winner Jay-Z was accused of stabbing fellow record executive Lance “Un” Rivera for
supposedly bootlegging his material.
Incidents like these have made the issue of hip-hop violence a main staple for media
commentators. Should we ban the concerts? How concerned should we be about the lyrics
and imagery promoted by some of the acts?
Serious discussion requires proper perspective. Yes, there are violent incidents
associated with hip-hop, but they do not define the mindset of the culture. Beware
of the trap of stereotyping. The alleged illegal actions of superstars like Puff
and Jay-Z are an embarrassment, but they do not represent the music and culture.
For example, violent incidents abound at soccer matches around the world but they
don’t define the sport or a particular community. In many cases law enforcement and
civic officials understand that the cost of doing business is a likelihood of violence.
Hence fences are built to keep rival fans apart, while special security units patrol
the stands. Hip-hop has never been afforded such treatment.
I am not suggesting that we turn concerts into police zones. Yet obviously large
gatherings require special precautions. We must also recognise that the media have
an interest in hyping mayhem. These stories sell. For example, nobody was killed,
let alone trampled, at the concert I described. The violence was confined to a small
area and involved less then 20 people out of the more than 12,000 who attended. Not
a single arrest was made, despite the presence of about 100 police officers. Nevertheless,
TV stations saw fit to interrupt their regular programming to inform the public about
the fights. Compare that sort of urgent coverage to the lack of attention given to
the crowd violence that occurs regularly at Bay Area football games.
The violence surrounding the “Big Game” between Stanford University and rival University
of California in 1997 made the Coliseum concert look like a picnic. The entire field,
including the goal posts, was destroyed by marauding fans who trampled innocent bystanders.
Police officers were even attacked. Yet there were no TV highlights on the evening
news. The newspapers wrote rave reviews of the game and barely mentioned the fights.
Apparently, no-one would dare tarnish the reputations of two very prestigious universities.
The following year, the fans went berserk again, despite the presence of 200 police
officers. Once again, no news coverage.
I mention these incidents to highlight a much larger point. Hip-hop is a convenient
scapegoat because its communities don’t have the political power or money to control
the type of media images projected worldwide. This has resulted in unbalanced coverage
and the maligning of a culture.
Another major issue to consider is the violent imagery often promoted by the rappers
themselves. A cottage industry has blossomed over the past ten years as record companies
and artists make a killing by selling a “thugged out”, misogynistic, gangsta image.
There is no denying that some of these artists actually adopt the attitudes their
songs and videos project. However, there are other ways of reading these coded lyrics
and images. To begin with, some rappers use the violent metaphors as part of a long
tradition of toasting or bragging about their musical prowess. As African American
author and professor Robin D.G. Kelley points out, by exaggerating and boasting about
imaginary criminal acts, rappers engage in “verbal duels over who is the ‘baddest’.”
Kelley also shows how the narratives operate on two levels. Insiders can appreciate
the irony of the duels while outsiders–namely white middle-class kids–are enthralled
by a literal reading. Judgements aside, gangsta rappers take this audience on a fantasy
tour of “the ghetto”–a forbidden zone of cop-killers and whores. The rappers are
simply playing up on the appeal of the evil fantasies.
Now you may not approve of this pandering. But remember, the artists are just a small
cog in the machine of the multi-billion-dollar (per year) music business. Radio stations,
DJs, video outlets, promotion people and record labels must also shoulder the blame.
These money-makers aren’t just catering to popular demand. They are cultivating the
market.
Major radio stations are literally flooded with hundreds of pieces of music every
day. Who is more responsible for influencing the public: the radio station with a
million listeners or the artist that the station chooses to play? If an artist like
Snoop Dog or Dr Dre (both associated with violence) come in for an interview, the
journalist is not obliged to focus exclusively on the negative side of their “ghetto
upbringings”. They could ask about positive projects the artist might be pursuing.
Yet it’s more profitable to play up the negative stereotypes that people have of
rappers and black people in general. One could argue that the artist should challenge
the unbalanced questioning. But it’s crucial to realise that the problem of violence
is bigger then the artist.
The violence associated with hip-hop must be seen in proper perspective. We can condemn
the violent acts of certain individuals without maligning a culture. We can read
between the lines of masculine joustings via the microphone. We can also recognise
the mainstream cultural obsession with violence: just check out the ticket sales
to Hollywood’s gangster films or TV programmes. In short, we have to recognise the
complexity of hip-hop. Rappers offer more than just a mirror of the violence in their
own communities–their work reflects that of society as a whole. In short, hip-hop
will remain as violent as we allow it to be. It won’t change until we do.
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