It was a hard fight, but in 1994, hip hop finally gave up its long, hard-fought battle against a newcomer it never really had a chance against - gangster rap. It was new, it was fresh and most importantly, it scared the hell out of the happy-go-lucky rappers of the prior five years. And in a world where followers outnumber leaders a hundred to one, the fearful masses quickly aligned themselves with the emerging thugs, the rough and tumble bad boys, either because they wanted badly to be one of the tough guys, or because they didn't want the tough guys kicking their asses. Either way, young people began flocking to the new genre in droves.

  I found a list of the Billboard hip hop chart toppers for the year 1994, and it made me sad. In my eyes (and ears), the golden era of hip hop was from 1991-1994, a time when the hip hop you heard had a variety of style and substance that modern day hip hop rarely matches. Dance, nostalgic, trash talking, story-telling, neighborhood anthems (not to be confused with the hood anthems of later years, which were as likely to be filled with gun talk and drug references as talk of BBQs and family and friends), love stories...'94 had a little of everything. It was the end of the Golden Era and the beginning of the Gangsta Era, and hip hop would never be the same.

  We started off  the cold month of January with a clear indication of where hip hop was headed - 2Pac had the first top single of the year. But it wasn't "shoot 'em up" Pac, it was the kinder, gentler gangsta, with his ode to the single mother, "Keep Ya Head Up". Another notable track from this month was Snoop Dogg's "What's My Name", one of the biggest songs of the time to cross-over - it was Snoop's gangsterish vocals over the ultra danceable track that made it so popular.

  Then, in February, Too Short, a Cali native from Oakland, came out with "Money In The Ghetto". A self-professed pimp and prolific user of the dirty word, Short presented a tale of the hard times growing up in the ghetto, but told his story over a classic dance sample. It was an early warning that the days of the silly, fun hip hop song were numbered. In direct contrast, Queen Latifah peaked on the charts with "U.N.I.T.Y."  that same month, a feel-good plea for working together instead of against one another. Closing out February, a relatively unknown emcee named Jeru tha Damaja, more popular in the underground than mainstream, released an instant classic, "Come Clean", a sparse battle track that was also funky enough to be popular in dance clubs.

  March brought more proof that gangsta was on its way in - "Mass Appeal" by Gang Starr and "Gin & Juice" by Snoop Dogg - two emcees representing opposing coasts pushing thug anthems. The fact that they crossed over into the dance clubs was a testament to the public's need for good dance music, even if the content was angrier than they were used to.

  April came along soon after, and although April showers might bring May Flowers, in 1994, it brought more guns and drugs to the party. Wu-Tang Clan's "C.R.E.A.M." and Ice Cube's "You know How We Do It" topped the Billboard charts - more of the same quasi-dance tracks, laid over with gangster themes and thinly-veiled set claims. It seemed that the Day Of The Thug was upon us for sure when "Born To Roll" peaked on the charts, a trash-talking bass anthem by Masta Ace, but then in late April, "Electric Relaxation" topped the charts, and A Tribe Called Quest helped us all breathe a sigh of relief. The relief would be short lived though.

  Outkast (the thugs you could bring home to mama) released Player's Ball in May, which was midway through the year, and a perfect "in-between" song - a group with a thug image, dance tracks and a positive message - all the better to help cement Gangsta in the hearts and minds of America's youth.  If it wasn't for Heavy D & The Boy's "Got Me Waiting" that same month, it very well could have been curtains for happy hip hop right then and there.

  June had one notable entry - "It Ain't Hard To Tell", by Nas, hip hop's pre-eminent thug spokesperson, and an early adopter of the "hardcore" image. Nas was a true story teller though, so his songs were threaded not only with references to guns and drugs, but also the occasional positive message, which made it easy  for the mainstream to incorporate more gangster into its playlists. "But it has a positive message!" was heard in A&R offices across the land that month.

  Public Enemy tried hard to quash the imminent gangster craze by releasing "Give It Up", a scathing tale of fake-gangsta-wannabe's that hit the top of the charts, but it was too little, too late. There were plenty of pseudo-thugs to be found already, and in July Ill Al Skratch released "Where My Homiez" which charted quickly as a "Hot Billboard" single. It was pretend ghetto, and the sappy ode was quickly followed up by more fake gangster hits, like "Regulate" by Warren G. It seemed the hood wanted it's fifteen  minutes of fame, and it would take any route to get there. The final big hit of July was "Fantastic Voyage" by Coolio, who sampled another classic dance groove and turned it into a story about the hood - it was quickly becoming clear that even the fun songs were getting the gangsta treatment.

  The end of summer rolled around and in August, it finally seemed like America was becoming wise to the ways of the gangsta groups, and a slew of more traditional hip hop songs were released. Ahmad's "Back In The Day" was a tribute to a kinder time in the world, "Funkdafied", by Da Brat, was another nod to an older, more funky time. The Fugees, a brand new group at the time, would try to hold back the tide of gangster over the next few years, but were eventually unable to avoid breaking up - one member became a recluse, the second made the jump to commercial pop rap and the third no one cared about.  The last two big hits of August were "The World Is Yours" by Nas and "Southernplayalisticadillacmuzik" by Outkast, both stories told in a murky, unclear manner that left you feeling vaguely excited and confused about the purpose at the same time - were they gangstas? Were they positive emcees? It was hard to tell.

  September was another backslide - no major thug tracks, but "This D.J." by Warren G and "Bop Gun" by Ice Cube were overshadowed by Heavy D's "Nuttin But Love" in the clubs. A small victory, but one not to be repeated for a long time.

  In October, The Notorious B.I.G. hammered in a few nails in the coffin of feel-good hip hop, by presenting the world with one of the best feel-good tracks America had ever heard, but one glossed over with thug themes and criminal ambience.  "9th Wonder" by Digable Planets was a classic beat, ruined by the amateurish vocals of the group, and was no match for the lyrical mastery of B.I.G. - the youth were almost completely sold on gangster.

  Autumn brought a weird, eclectic mix of chart toppers that would almost make you think America wasn't quite so sure about gang music, but you would be wrong. Bone Thugs-N-Harmony's "Thuggish Ruggish Bone" was not only a new style of hip hop, it also quickly became the anthem of many young men new to the world of the hoodlum.  Craig Mack's more light hearted "Flava In Ya Ear" was a hit in the clubs, but still leaned more toward hardcore imagery rather than the fun style of yesteryear. And then there was "Lucas With The Lid Off" - which was not only not gangsta, it also barely qualified as rap at all, and yet it charted on the hip hop charts, handily beating out many other, harder tracks.

  And then the year was at an end. What song would most aptly describe the year that hip hop died? Would it be Ini Kamoze's "Here Comes The Hotstepper", a fun dance track? Would it be Outkast's "Git Up, Git Out", an emotional plea to stop wasting your life and get yours, but in a legal way? No, none of those. Instead, the song most aligned with the year 1994 was a solo effort by Method Man, of Wu-Tang fame, who released "Bring The Pain" and in so doing, hammered the final nail in the coffin of hip hop. At least, the kind of hip hop that makes you feel good, encourages you to dance and be a better person, the kind of music that you can share with anyone in your family, because the words are more than just sex, drugs and violence.

  In 2009, rap music still exists. It flourishes, even. It dominates the air waves, it's used in advertising across the world, the same ten "hit" songs can be heard blasting out of commercial radio stations all over America and some of them are even good! But don't get it twisted - hip hop has been slowly but surely turned out - from the battle raps of the parks in NYC, the freestyle sessions in the California underground and the days when you would rush home from school to see what new videos would be on Yo! MTV raps or Rap City, to the soul-crushing, creativity denying, formulaic drivel of today's commercial rap world, hip hop is no longer the music we fell in love with.

  Hip hop is dead and 1994 is the year it died.

  Props to the person who put this video together:

 

I am SO sick of hearing twenty-somethings complain about how broke they are. You young ass, fiscally irresponsible so-and-so's are making me mad. I know lots of people like you. You want people to think you’re hard up for cash, hurting for money, you’ve got short pockets, assets in the negative, broke as a joke. You cry about how broke you are to anyone who will listen and then you turn around and buy something ridiculously expensive that you didn't even need. You’re not broke – you just want everyone to think you are.



Let me start with the definition of broke:

–adjective
     without money; penniless.
     bankrupt.

No, you are not broke. Those new Forever 21 outfits every month prove that. Your $100 shoes and Blackberry Whatever prove that. Your frequent visits to Starbucks to chop it up with the homies or "work" on your laptop prove that. Keep it real, homegirls and homeboys…you are not “broke” just because you don’t have as much money as you think you deserve.



“No, seriously! I’M BROOOOKE, MAN!”

No, you’re not. You are not broke if you have a cellphone, car or other possession that requires a monthly payment, especially if you aren’t two months or more behind on those payments. You are not broke if you live in a house where you don’t pay rent or your rent is significantly less than what a stranger would pay to live there (Don’t front, you know what the rent hook up is - you pay $200 a month, while some dood off the street would pay $650. Thanks for the discount mom!). And don’t even get me started if you’re complaining about money all the time and you have a job. Broke? Oh no. You are most definitely not that. And if you don’t stop saying you are, I’m going to come to your house and smack you in the face with a dictionary turned to the definition of the word broke. Twice.



Let’s talk about why it’s so insulting when you say “Oh, I’m so broke” or you whine about how hard times are…while you live at home with your parents, with a bank account that has money in it, while you drive your car around that your parents bought for you, listening to your iPod with ten thousand songs on it (some of which you actually paid for on iTunes! Go you!) while you eat meals prepared by ma dukes, with food you didn’t chip in for,  in a house you don’t pay rent in, when the only real bills you have are your cellphone, car insurance and whatever money you spend on your golden kicks. Must be nice.



You suck.  Super Saiyan Suckage.

And no, this is not a jealousy blog – I’m most definitely not jealous that I can’t live with my parents at twenty-something. You see, I prefer being a grown up and taking care of my own responsibilities, even if it means I have to struggle while I do it. I’m a man. You, on the other hand, are a freeloader. Now, I can allow a situation like this if you’re in college studying your ass off to graduate and get a great career. But if you aren’t? You should take a hard look at why mommy and daddy are still providing you room and board when you're several years past adulthood.

What's that? Am I broke? Nope. I’m not. But even though I’m nowhere near broke, I’m a whole lot more broke than you are, oh great spender of leisure funds. I have a personal debt of about $2000, while my wife owes close to $16,000 (mostly for college bills). We have no savings account and I’m unemployed, which means her single income supports our family of three. No Prada shoes for us. No weekend trips to Tahoe or L.A. several times a year. We’re behind on 60% of our monthly bills – bills that total around $1200 a month and believe it or not, the only truly frivolous bills out of that $1200 are our internet and cable.



We pay for all our medical costs, gas, vehicle repairs, multiple insurances, school supplies for our son, clothes and food – and our mommy and daddy don’t pay for any of that. But even we, with all these bills, no savings and one income – even we can’t really get away with saying we’re broke. So how is it that you feel justified in saying you’re broke all the time? You toss that word around like you just learned it in malapropism class…you’re whining because you don’t have money to go out clubbing this weekend? Or you can’t buy that dress you’ve been eyeing all week? How terrible that must be for you!

You’re not broke. I hate to keep harping, but you’re seriously not. You money-light heffers and mama’s boys who think being unable to buy stuff you want because you had to spend most of your paycheck on your cell bill – if you think that puts you in the broke category – I swear I’d give a testicle to see you live one month in the shoes of people who really don’t have money.



“Well, who are you to judge, Namu? You already admitted you’re not broke!” And yet, that certainly doesn’t mean I’m not speaking from experience, now does it? When I was growing up, there was a period or two in my life when I lived on the street. Or with my mom in women’s shelters. Times when we got our food out of dumpsters behind Kroger or by begging for it outside of restaurants. Later, I wore clothes bought with government vouchers and ate meals comprised almost entirely of government cheese and bread and Kool-Aid bought with food stamps. I’ve lived in one-room houses with no electricity or running water. I’ve been embarrassed to go to school because I had to wear the same outfit two or three times a week. I’ve lived in neighborhoods where I was beat up and teased because I was the poorest kid on the block. So yes, I know exactly what being broke is. I know what’s it all about to not have enough…of anything. Not enough food, not enough clothing, not enough shelter, not enough laughter.

And then you come along and complain about how short your ends are. How you have to make $200 last a WHOLE week – whatever will you do?! And it takes everything I’ve got to keep from shaking you until the stupid falls out.

If you think you’re broke now, while you have all these advantages and opportunities, how, exactly, will you manage when you’re really broke? When life throws you a curve ball and you lose the advantage of having parents to pay for everything? Are you going to cry when you owe $12,000 and have no job and your child needs new school clothes and you haven’t had a decent meal in weeks? How will you handle it when a hurricane destroys your house and you didn’t have insurance to cover it and no savings and your credit is wack because you ruined it buying all kinds of things you didn’t need on credit cards you didn’t need, spending money you didn’t have…and that dream job never appeared and you’re stuck earning barely more than minimum wage, at a job you hate?

And then you’ll probably want sympathy from me. You’ll want me to really believe you when you say, “Oh man, I’m so broke!” And I’m guessing you’ll want help, too?  But I don’t think I’ll believe you. And even if I did, I’d probably be too busy trying to help those people who really need my help. You know the ones, right? The people who took the time to build up a real savings, invested their money when they could, never complained about being broke when they really had plenty of money, opportunity and support. The people who did as best they could, but circumstances conspired to make life really difficult for them and now they really need my help.

While you were busy amassing credit card debt and buying up everything your little heart desired, while you were busy clubbing every weekend and racking up $100 bar tabs, while you were busy taking trips and spending your hard earned money on everything but responsible purchases, while you were busy pretending to be broke, a lot of the rest of the world really was.

And hopefully, when you come face to face with the reality of what being broke truly means, you’ll feel ashamed for all those times you laid claim to such a powerful state of being.

You_are_not _broke.




***
Enjoyed this blog? I'd appreciate a recommend!

I've been doing a lot of thinking about why I don't do a lot of actioning. Yes, actioning. Not a real word, but that’s ok, because even though I'm a lazy, fat bastard, I'm also hella awesome. And speaking of, if made up words cause your eyeballs to bulge with anger, then shut off your monitor, STAT. I'll probably make up a few more before this post is through and I don't want your eyes to go all bulgie on me.

So, where was I? Oh yes, I was thinking about how lazy I am. How I often don't do what I should be doing. How I stop right in the middle of something to head off and do something el-






See? I went to go grab a bottled water and a cheeseburger. Because when you drink water with your fat, sloppy burger it automatically becomes super healthy, right? Right. That’s some pretty smart thinking, if I do say so myself.

You see, I'm a thinker. I try hard to be an actioner too, a "doer", one of those guys who makes things happen. And I’ve had my share of successes. But these days, I'm just as likely to sit on the computer playing World of Warcraft and watching the latest SxePhil video on YouTube as I am to finish the top three items on my to do list, or clean the house or make all the phone calls I should. Why is this? Why have I turned into a lazy fat ass? I used to be fairly productive when I was younger. I used to promote hiphop concerts and I ran one of the most popular import carshow websites in the world and both of those undertakings required a significant amount of effort, time and energy, not to mention a bit of brain work and a solid network of awesome people willing to help out. And back then, I managed to throw shows that never lost money and I turned a one page website with twenty pictures of half-nekkid Asian carshow models into one of the most visited import culture destinations online with tens of thousands of visitors every month. All on the income of a part-time bouncer. And in between all that? I was also a rapper. And a boyfriend. And a videogamer. And it’s terrible to start sentences with “and”. So don’t do it.

What changed? Where did all that energy and excitement go? I mean - it’s only been about ten years since that period in my life. It's not like I'm old. I'm not even close to middle age yet. My shoulders don't droop, my eyes still sparkle. I'm still sexy, damn it! Ok, that's another lie, but you’ll forgive me my vanity – I’m fat and married and a man needs his fantasies. So where did I go wrong along the way? Let’s talk it out.

When I was younger, I was single, unmarried, childless. Could this be what changed? A lot is different now, true – I’m married now, I’ve been in a committed relationship for eight years, which means what? That I spend a lot more time on my relationships? Not a lot more, but sure, maybe that’s something. I have a child now, ten years old. Yes, he takes up time. And my focus is less than stellar when he’s around (yes, son, you can kick my ass in Need For Speed: Carbon. No, son, in CounterStrike: Source, I am still the man). Yes, I see what you mean…it could be that the energy I’m spending on my relationships could be complicating my efforts to succeed. But is that really enough to turn someone into a lazyface?

How about my financial status? I don’t make much more money now than I did back then. Maybe if I made less, then I might be inclined to use it as an excuse, but since I don’t, then I won’t. However, I’ve never been a 9 to 5 kind of guy, at all, preferring to work contract work or gigs here and there. That’s why bouncing was such a perfect fit for me. Paid under the table, easy schedule, simple job with very simple duties. Set up, take down, protect the patrons, the staff, the property. Flirt with pretty girls. But now I’m a photographer, struggling to find gigs or set up paid photoshoots with families. The income is roughly the same, but the effort involved in earning it is more. Not as fun, you say? Depends on who the photoshoot is with, right? Shooting headshots for C level managers is fun level two, while shooting with half naked bikini models is completely off the fun chart…but yeah, I see what you mean. Another possible reason for the change.

Could my weight have something to do with it? I was 206 pounds eight years ago. Not skinny, by any means, but definitely in pretty good shape. I’m 250 pounds now. At six feet tall, I’m technically obese, but I still move around like I used to. I’m just fat while I do it. As my wife said to me once, after she chased me across a big field, running at top speed, trying to catch me while I ran with my son on my back, “Whoa! You’re pretty damn fast for such a fatty!”. Thanks, honey. That top looks mad sexy on you, too!

And how about location? Back in my early, ultra-motivated days, I lived in the bay area. I was in the center of a metropolitan area with a network that reached through ten counties. I had thousands of phone numbers. And then I moved to the central coast, leaving my beloved bay area behind, and I think that’s when I began my slow descent into fattitude. No network, no people interested in making mad moves (don’t ask me why the moves were angry) and no carshows or carshow models. And now, here I am back up in the bay, questioning why I’ve lost my mojo. The bay is a catalyst for lots of things, no?

And let’s keep it even more real, son! My wife, the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known, might be an enabler. Could THIS be why I’ve become extra lazy? Could it be that she has encouraged me to eat more, do less, forget about my past life and settle down into a life of family and stability? Could all of that push me off the deep end directly into the lazy pool? Oh, c’mon. That’s pure wackface. First off, she’d punch my nutsack if I agreed with that (and I happen to like my nutsack) and secondly, it’s patently false. Sure, she’s a fantastic cook and I’ve eaten really well since we met, and yes, she has talked with me about slowing down and focusing more on family, but that’s normal in any relationship. And the thought that she would encourage me to ‘do less” is laughable – and dangerous. If anything, she encourages me to sit less. Do less? Not so much.

But let’s recap, shall we?

Then, I was single, childless, worked part time, was in much better shape (more like M.M.A. and less like B.I.G.) focused like a Jedi warrior in training and I made serious moves. Now, I’m married, with a kid, work part time, I’m fatty fat fat, and my focus is less like a Jedi and more like the guy who cleans the toilets on the Death Star.

Am I lazy with good reason? Or am I kidding myself into thinking I turned lazy for any other reason than plain ol’ me?

I would love to think outside circumstances conspired to reach inside my soul and steal all my action jackson. I’d really love that. But since I know it’s not true, I guess it’s time to list the real reasons for why I became super mega ultra lazy and then some:

➢    I got fat. I have a woman taking care of me. And she’s doing a damn good job – it’s hard to keep that “hungry” feeling that motivates you when you’ve got three squares a day that taste better than most restaurant meals. Plus, sitting in front of a computer all day, every day is a great recipe for weight gain.
➢    I used to be surrounded by creative people who did creative things. And that was a huge motivation to be creative myself. But then, I spent so many years on the central coast that I got out of touch with my networks, and didn’t feel like putting in the footwork to make a new network.
➢    I used to perform in hiphop concerts or produce them all the time. Instead of that, I almost disconnected from the hiphop world completely – I barely even listened to it, let alone make new songs.
➢    I got lazy.

What?! What was that last one? You got LAZY?

All the words in this long ass blog and you say the reason for getting lazy is YOU GOT LAZY? Yup. That’s the long and the short of it. The end of the road. The fat lady singing. The real reason I got lazy? Because I wanted to. I could have done big thangs like a chubby chasing porno star, I could have made moves all over the central coast like the college boys from Meathead Movers (central coast reference for the win!). But instead, I wanted to play videogames, eat too much and sit around talking about the good ol’ days, instead of talking about how I would make the new days good too.

Oh, sure. I felt guilty for the laziness…correction, I FEEL guilty. And therein lies the real reason for this blog. I want to get back to the old me, the me who made people excited about upcoming projects, the me who worked hard to design things, produce events, make music that people enjoyed. That me is a lot better than the me typing right now, but maybe he’s not too far off. And if writing about it helps me break out of my lazy ways, then I’ll be the first to let you know in a new blog about how to break out of being lazy by writing a blog about being lazy.

Word.





 

I promise to think of you during the best times - day and night.



I promise to love your bad side as much as your good.



I promise to hold your child's hands like they were my child's hands.



I promise to sing to you when you can't sleep.



I promise to wake up each morning still in love with you.



I promise to save your place.



I promise to kiss you and make it all better.



I promise to keep you safe, in my arms or in the world or anywhere.



I promise to learn from you.



I promise you me.



Remember that list you wrote in high school? The one with all the qualities you wanted in the perfect man? I promise to be as many of those things as I can.

Woman, I promise you.

Because of me and millions of other smart Americans, that is!

 

We stood up against the false promises and empty platitudes of the Bush presidency. We ignored the hatred and misinformation of the McCain campaign. We canvassed. We talked to friends. We made phone calls to people we didn't know, because we believed in something, maybe for the first time in our lives. We hoped, we prayed and we worked our asses off and thanks to me and millions of beautiful Americans like me, our nation has a new President who is intelligent, just, fair, motivated and probably most importantly, pretty good at basketball.

To John McCain - you are not completely sullied in my book. I think you are a great man who got off track. Majorly. I still have respect for you and what you've done in your life in service of your country. I think your concession speech was gracious and appropriate.

To Sarah Palin - you suck. A lot. I love women, and I love that women can be powerful and I'm a firm believer that a woman belongs in the White House, but you, madam, are no Hillary Clinton.

To Joe Biden - can't wait to see you in the white house old man.

To Barack Obama - for the first time in my life, I cared about politics. For the first time, I was inspired to fight for change. For the first time, I looked beyond my own life and the life of my family, and I worked towards something greater. Something that has changed the lives of every American, whether significantly or subtlely, for the good. And you, sir, and your family, and all of your efforts and sacrifices, are what inspired all of this. For the rest of my life, I will thank you in my heart for showing me that my single, solitary, plain old Namu voice could effect change in such a magnificent way.



Tonight, I was part of history.

Were you?