“Artists, cultural icons, can
highlight, reflect and support a movement, but those of us with real organizing
skills and consistent activist mindsets must be the one to make movements happen.
The artists inspire activists to do what we do, and the activists inspire the
artists to do what they do.”—Kevin Powell
“We warn radio stations to be
smart. The canned response of “if you don’t like it, don’t listen” will be met
with “if you don’t respect us, get out.”---RADIO-ACTIVE
In a recent essay, Kevin Powell writes about the roots of
what today some call “hip hop activists” (or “raptivists,” as CNN’s Don Lemon smugly
referred to Talib Kweli). In the 1980s, hip-hop was the soundtrack while Sister
Souljah, Ras Baraka (now the mayor of Newark, NJ), April Silver and countless others—including
Powell himself—were organizing, agitating, and resisting racism and economic
injustice (Powell, 34). This was a natural alliance in which both musician and
activist, culture and the economy, benefitted.
This point is especially timely since the national
#BlackLivesMatter movement has grown in the wake of the state-sanctioned
killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, MO during the summer of 2014. We can hear
some very well-known rappers—and musicians in other genres—lend support and
visibility to this movement (Kweli, Common, J.Cole, Kendrick Lamar, and the
omnipresent Boots Riley of the Coup, to name but a few). In addition, lesser
known artists--like St. Louis rapper Tef. Poe, one of the main activists on the
“front lines” of Ferguson-- are marching and organizing alongside Ashley Yates
and others in the MAU and the BLM movement.
Unfortunately, most of the songs that have come out of, or
accompanied, this movement and articulate its demands most profoundly are not
to be found on the corporate-owned mass media outlets with their near monopoly
ownership of the wireless airwaves that promote and disseminate hip hop and
other forms of music made by, and listened to, by black people in this racially
and economically segregated society.
Many of these “raptivist” songs are released on small---in
some cases self-owned—record labels that that have little chance to compete
against the large media conglomerates. 99% of the time, Clearchannel refuses to
air this “underground” music (that’s part of why it’s called “underground”).
Instead, they play the music that the white owned record labels are able to
spend millions marketing and promoting.
These record labels have had a broad policy of rejecting
“conscious” hip hop with an uplifting message ever since the early 1990s when
many of them purged the rappers from their label who refused to sprinkle in a
quota of lines about “bitches and hoes” and slinging rock, as Phavia Kujichagulia
recently pointed out at Laney College’s celebration of the Black Arts Movement.
Kujichagulia refused to lower her standards, and as a result was not signed to
the major label, adding, with both regret and pride, “that’s why many of you
have never heard of me.”
Countless others have testified to similar instances of
corporate censorship. In the early 1990s, as Powel puts it, “what we thought
was a burgeoning social movement for change, fueled by hip-hop, got decimated
by a shift toward what the corporations were suddenly permitting to be marketed
and sold.” (36). As a result, in the subsequent 20 years, Powell argues, there
has been a split between authentic “hip hop culture” and “the hip hop industry,
the bastard child of the culture, manipulated, twisted and bent out of shape by
a few corporations.” (36)
This “bastardization” of hip hop often takes the form of
corporate censorship—even though I’m well aware that many still argue that
these radio stations are playing, and these record labels are promoting, the
songs and musicians that listeners demand. Yet, in most cases, the people only
demand these songs after they’ve been
pushed from above. The listener of music is supposed to assume that the
executives of these corporate media conglomerates have
impeccable—unimpeachable—taste in music and let these people (or algorithms)
decide what the options on the musical menu are before the listeners have any
say in the matter. We’re also supposed to assume that these corporations have
our best interest at heart. Both of these assumptions are debatable, at the
very least.
As Powell sees it, these corporate
gate keepers have
game
blocked hip hop culture’s evolution from occurring. Similarly, Black
revolutionary artists like Amiri Baraka—co-founder of the Black Arts Movement,
a precursor to the hip hop movement, argues that “our enemies have created our
spokesmen”
when
considering how the hip hop industry has elevated some songs and artists while
excluding and censoring certain others. This process may masquerade as
democratic, but it’s not---even if you have a chance to call up a station and
request a song, you’re only allowed to choose from what’s on their official
menu, a mere fraction of the quality music being made today.
Anthony Johnson points out that they’ll only play Tupac if
you request it, but there’s much more they won’t play even if you do request it. Even if local Radio DJs
want to play more (insert municipality here) hip hop—like “Davey D” Cook did at
Fresno’s Q97—they have little or no control over the playlists, and would be
let go—fired—if they tried. This is especially troubling given the historical
importance of the local DJ in the development of African-American music in the
20th century.
No wonder some music critics and historians have claimed
there’s been a successful corporate conspiracy in the era of the New Jim Crow
to remove whatever self-determination had been achieved when “Urban Radio” was
still called “Black Radio.” It was only after many years of struggle with this
white supremacist culture that positive messages such as James Brown’s “Say It
Loud (I’m Black And I’m Proud),” Aretha Franklin’s “Respect,” or Public Enemy
(and The Isley Brothers’) “Fight The Power” were able to be heard on radio…and
it didn’t take too long after this for the corporations to make sure that
wouldn’t happen again. This is why music is at the front line of the struggle
and why these hip hop activists must fight as much for the right to be heard—in
music and words—as those who wish to hold the justice system accountable to the
communities they purport to serve.
As the co-author of the
Black
Power manifesto with Stokely Carmichael, Charles Hamilton, put it, “for
blacks to gain control of a significant portion of the electronic media would
be the most important single breakthrough in the black struggle, and would
justify every bit of time, talent and resources, expended towards its
achievement.”
Over 40 years later, this is still as urgent a necessity as it was then, and it
is still a dream deferred.
The lines of this battle between Hip Hop culture and the Hip
hop industry need to be made clear, for anyone who has a stake in preserving
and extending what’s best in hip hop culture, and more generally in
African-American, and even American culture as a whole.
For instance, when activist (and former kingpin in the CIA
supported illegal trade of Crack) “Freeway” Rick Ross tells people that
hip hop is a government weapon against the
people, he is referring to the hip-hop
industry
and not the more inclusive hip hop
culture.
In
short, he’s not hating on hip hop, but rather on the way the corporate media
outlets support rappers-- like the young man who took Ross’s name—to propagate
an image that encourages the destructive (to self and others) lifestyle that the
original Rick Ross (in contrast to the imitation) once practiced, but now
preaches against. When Rick Ross #1 crusades against the hip hop industry, it’s
because he understands that it’s part of the prison-industrial complex as much
as “Stop And Frisk” and “Broken Windows” laws.
Likewise, when the Detroit based RADIO-ACTIVE activists
recently petitioned Clear Channel Communications to remove Genasis’s “Coco” and
Shmurda’s “Hot Nigga” (among others) from regular radio rotation on Urban (I.e.
Black) radio, they are criticizing the hip hop
industry, not the culture.
Perhaps Radio Active’s statement doesn’t make this distinction clear enough,
since quite a few of the people I’ve shared this with (students, mostly) react
to RADIO ACTIVE’s call for Censorship as an attempt by well-intentioned, but overly
puritanical kill-joys to blame a harmless little song for some of the nation’s
most pressing social/cultural ills.
Indeed, in a culture that values “freedom of speech” as much
as America says it does, any attempt to censor is looked at skeptically.
Historically, hip hop artists—as well as their precursors/ancestors—have fought
against both overt and covert censorship ever since the Slave Masters took away
black folk’s drums on the plantation and in Congo Square (or, more recently, when
Al Gore and the PMRC attacked hip hop on moral grounds, while sparing white country
and pop music that encouraged at least as much destructive behavior), so it
makes sense that many who recognize the prevalence of such lyrics that glorify
killing and the use of crack cocaine is a problem still question RADIO ACTIVE’s
particular proposal.
As Joel Singleton writes, even songs like “Coco” should be
defended because “some artists are telling their stories. Plus, a lot of this
generation can relate when pushing drugs and street life offer more work than
jobs.” This has been part of the hip hop tradition ever since the creation of
the “hustler” persona in the 80s—even before it became the dominant mode of the
hip hop industry. And I agree with Powell when he writes: “I do not believe in
censorship in any form….I know full well our society is riddled with racism,
sexism, violence, ant-intellectualism, and materialism, and that hip hop didn’t
create any of these things.” (37)
Thus I, too, am skeptical of the RADIO-ACTIVE petition. By
itself, I don’t see it being able to make things better, even if it does manage
to succeed to get these songs taken off the air. At this point it’s too late to
censor “Coco.” The song’s already extremely well known, and has effectively
hooked many toddlers with its “simple, easy to remember melodies, much like
nursery rhymes;” any campaign to censor it will just make it more popular.
Furthermore, as Patricia Blincoe writes, “Sheltering our youth from such
things…will only make them want to lash out even further and go completely
against the grain.”
Yet, something must be done, and I believe that RADIO-ACTIVE
is right to call out Clearchannel. So while I signed their petition, and
encourage others to do so, I agree with Powell that censorship is not the most
effective way to fight Clearchannel’s censorship, but demanding balanced, more inclusive, programming
from the conglomerates who use Hip Hop to steal from the poor to give to the
rich is. We must let them know we’re sick of their plantation mentality as the
major mediators of this culture, as they step between local, independent,
rappers and their potential listeners down the block—less like a bridge and
more like a wall.
A Modest Proposal
(Open Letter To RADIO-ACTIVE And Kevin Powell)
I’d like to see Kevin Powell, and others, who have “real
organizing skills and consistent activist mindsets” join forces with
RADIO-ACTIVE, and consider proactive ways to challenge the Hip Hop Industry on
behalf of Hip Hop culture, such as:
1)
to help achieve that balance that Powell writes
of, make a list of new songs
(non-corporate, underground, or
indie, such as the music that is played on KPOO’s “Hip Hop For Change” Radio
Show) that Clearchannel and the others currently don’t play, but which people
would like and demand they play. You might have more of a chance with this more
inclusive strategy—especially if the corporate owners realize they can make
money off this as well.
2)
Encourage conscious hip hop artists to write
more songs with hooks that are
as catchy as “Coco” to appeal to
the kids as much as these negative ones are. Use these songs as your theme
songs. Have fun with it. Support a local contest—in Detroit where you’re
based—or here in Oakland---to showcase these songs on a podcast. And drive
around town in a pick-up truck or van blaring these songs through the streets
of the city (like Baraka’s “Jazzmobile”), then park in front of the local
outpost of the Clearchannel, Entercom, colonizers to stage a danceable, “in the
pocket” #BlackLivesMatters protest that may be at least as effective as any of
the other protests---to (re-)unite artist and activist as Powell asks.
3)
Keep the pressure of accountability on these
radio stations who think
globally, and are programmed
nationally—but still (even despite themselves) have to act locally through
their colonial outposts and transmitter sites. Beyond this, hold the FCC accountable.
Demand that it enforce the laws that claim radio stations should operate in the
public trust and serve the community in which they are licensed. Take the
battle to city, state and national government. Reverse the poisonous effects of
the Telecommunications Act. Demand government regulation and enforce the
Anti-trust laws Clearchannel clearly violates. Demand community ownership of at
least one radio station per region and make more initiatives to support small
labels.
4)
Hire local DJS who have some autonomy and are
responsible to the
community (analogous to the Black
Lives Matter demand to require police to live in the neighborhoods they
patrol), and make the request line vital.
The righteous moral fervor with which RADIO-ACTIVE has
announced its campaign is laudable, especially if it’s understood that they are
not blaming Shmurda or Genasis. Powell helps make this point clearer: “there is
nothing wrong with rhyming about the ghetto, about parties and material things,
if we are also expanding our worldviews
enough to discuss our other concerns ,too.” (38)
Rather than trying to beat the corporate censors at their
own game, Powell defends the wider inclusiveness of hip hop culture over the
more narrow hip hop industry. There’s a
hope that, if given the choice between 2 songs with equally infectious grooves
and verbal agility, many would choose the song with the more positive message.
At least the listener, as well as the producer of the music, should be allowed
equal access, a level playing field, so that people can make a real, informed,
choice…just as people had in earlier times when radio was a more accurate
reflection of the communities it served. And if, THEN, people still prefer
“Coco,” well then we can say the “experts” at Clearchannel were right after
all. Then we can say, democracy could have a chance, in radio at least…and even
in reality.
Finally, there’s a battle for cultural and economic self-determination
that shouldn’t be ignored here. Before mass culture became centralized in
Hollywood (“where the white man sells himself to the world,” as Judy Juanita
aptly put it), it used to allow for a larger number, and wider diversity, of
musicians to find gainful employment. Today there are far fewer people making a
living from it, though the few who do make it make more money. No one voted on
tis change in how music culture is made and received in this country—except the
corporate CEOS, and this has had an effect on the communities from which hip
hop, and other “Urban Music” forms, emerge (which in term perpetuates a vicious
cycle).
Since there are so many amazing contemporary rappers who
have been reduced to making their music a mere hobby because they refused to
move to LA and try to buy the Mega-star Lottery ticket by censoring their
lyrics and beats to please the white owners, it should be obvious that taking
the culture back could—at the very least—spread the wealth around and create more
equal economic opportunity—not just for the musicians, but for the various
related creative fields that go into making a song, especially in this
heightened visually-oriented era.
This lack of economic opportunity is not hip hop’s fault. In
fact, hip hop, if allowed to evolve naturally beyond the watchful eyes of the
Industry gatekeepers, could be much more a part of the solution. As Powell
writes: “This is why I always say to those critical of hip-hop to keep in mind
that if Kool Herc and others had not created this art form in the first place,
there would be even more blacks and Latinos, especially, who are unemployed, on
the streets committing crimes, in jail, and without healthcare….” (41-42)
In contemporary Detroit, where RADIO-ACTIVE is based, even
the public water system is being privatized, causing over 17,000 residents to
be without water. While music may not seem to be as essential a basic need as
water, it too has become increasingly privatized in the 50 plus years since the
heyday of Detroit’s legendary locally owned record label, Motown. Whatever the
failings the “black Capitalism” of Berry Gordy had (and yes, it wasn’t
perfect), it did create a large number of decent paying jobs for a wide variety
of local artists and culture workers that is practically unthinkable in today’s
corporate dominated economy. We can learn from their successes as well as their
mistakes and/or betrayals, while fighting on the other fronts—not just by
proposing song bans, but by proactively demanding these stations play music
that appears on KPOO’s “Hip Hop For Change,” for instance.
The struggle against the minstrelsy of the corporate
behemoth’s must be waged on many fronts, but the talent and hunger of youth (and
elders) to make a better world is there…and this is why I support efforts like
RADIO-ACTIVE to take back the music industry. It’s, at the very least, a start.
even calling it “Urban Radio”
is a sign of the “post-racial” official line, to erace the word “black” (Urban
radio used to be called black radio) and obscure the ongoing legacy of a
distinctly black culture in America.
These proposals should be coordinated with other ideas
that fall outside the scope of radio programming, such as the school curriculum
changes Powell advocates.
