Interesting story I came across on XXLMag.comWynton Marsalis Calls Out 50 Cent & Ludacris; a jazz musician expresses his thoughts on hip-hop in a very candid way.
“I call it ghetto minstrelsy,” Marsalis tells The Guardian. “Old school minstrels used to say they were real darkies from the real plantation. Hip-Hop substitutes the plantation for the streets. Now you have to say you’re from the streets, you shot some brothers, you went to jail. Rap has become a safari for people who get their thrills from watching African-American people debase themselves — men dressing in gold, calling themselves stupid names like Ludacris and 50 Cent, spending money on expensive fluff, using language like “bitch,” “ho” and “nigger.”
Disclaimer: This is not about all rappers just the hoe ass n***as that purposely put out wack music.
I agree wholeheartedly and I'd even take it further. Rappers are not just coons, they're HOES. And I don't mean hoes like a hoe n***a. I mean hoes like prostitutes/tricks. Basically, record labels find guys that look like what they imagine a sale-able archetype to be i.e. thugged out, gangsta or heartthrob. They loan them some money so they can get some nice clothes, flashy cars, watches and jewels...Then they put their BITCHES on the strip and tell them to go fetch their bread. If that's not a trick then I don't know what is. When rappers fuck up, labels smack them up. They shelf their projects, cut their marketing budgets, call them in meetings and verbally spank them etc. etc. When a label's perceived as a better fit, rappers move to another pimp. And you never see the pimps in the field. They just put their hoes out there. When they're done shaking their HOES down, they leave them for broke.
Nevertheless, thanks Wynton for thinking and saying what most civilized Black people think about mainstream rap already.
1 comment:
If you observe the history of Black culture dating back to the Yoruba you will notice that the messages found in the music directly reflects the societal climate of the people. You will also observe that strong songs act as fuel for Black movements to occur. When Marvin Gaye asked "What's Going On" he was speaking on the political landscape of his time being fueled by the Vietnam War. As a result of him questioning the system many of his fans began to look at the war through a different lens. When Billie Holiday sang of "April in Paris" she was shedding light on the Black arts movement in France during the 1940's and 50's that was creating opportunities for artists throughout the African Diaspora. Many notable Black artists became Parisian regulars because of the cues they followed in the music. The same I feel applies today. Hip-Hop artists such as Cam'ron and 'Lil Wayne through their lyrics bring light to the things that they see going on in their worlds; sex, drugs, and violence. It's sad to think that this is all that is going on in their neighborhood that they feel is compelling enough to report on. Following in the same pattern that Black music has followed for years the fans of the music have begun to emulate the messages created by their favorite artists. I know people are going to think I am giving too much credit to the artists, but come on. Let’s keep it 100% authentic. Catz were not hot to rock pink, sport Bapes, nor pop pills before these guys started doing it. I'm not saying we need to get rid of today’s rappers all I'm saying is balance them out. Radios and labels need to be held accountable for what they are releasing to the public because media companies are fully aware of how powerful the messages are that they promote. Given the option to choose between right and wrong who knows, we might just choose right...FUCK... who am I fooling. Rap music is too far gone to ever be fixed. Let’s burn this bitch down to the ground so that we can start something new. Let the perverse messages that are polluting young minds be washed away and let the artists of today stand up against the test of time. As proven by Billie Holiday and Marvin Gaye, the legends in the game will live on forever.
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