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 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?

R.I.P. Freaky Taj, B.I.G., Tupac, Jam Master Jay and every other artist lost to pointless violence.

jam master jay, hiphop pioneer

Let's remember them, shall we? Hiphop is vast, hiphop reaches hundreds of millions worldwide and those of us in America are at the core of everything that is hiphop. So let's remember. When you mix the reality of violence with the pretend violence prevalent in a lot of hiphop music, you sometimes get death. And we've lost some of the most talented and bright artists in the history of our music because of this bleeding over of real violence - people of great historical significance to our culture. But before we get too deep into the "we've lost our icons" conversation - let's think about this too:

b.i.g., emcee

Any person who dies from random and pointless violence deserves our thoughts. Not just our rap heros. Not just the people who made hundreds of thousands of dollars living the life of a "thug" on record and in videos. Not just the ones who helped bring us to the point where gun claps were just as likely to result from on-record disses as claps on the back for a great comeback. We lament the loss of our icons and in the same breath we promote and enshrine violent rap on our radios and on our tvs. We embrace the "thug" image as if there were no more important way to be in life - being "hard" means you've got respect.

freaky tah, emcee

I remember a day when rappers (even the tough looking ones) rapped about conscientious shit because that was important. They rapped, just like their modern-day counterparts, of inner city life and the ghetto and hard times. The difference, though, was that they told their stories of real life with the hopes that young black kids would *learn* from the mistakes of their elders and break out of the ghetto - break the stereotype of the young black male and leave the image of "hoodlum" behind - whereas the modern day thug rappers tell stories of the street designed only to glorify their lifestyle - no lessons, no education, no praise for those who try to escape poverty - only scorn and derision. You hear it all day, every day, "I only rap about what I know about - if it's guns and drugs, then that's just how it was for me growin up in the hood". Those lines are spoken as if the gangsta uttering them was doing the youth of the ghetto a huge service - letting them know how it is in the hood. I've got news for the "hard" emcees rapping about life in the hood - every kid in the hood already knows it's hard to live in a shitty project, struggling for money and food - avoiding dangerous situations on a daily basis - and your raps about "slangin yayo" and "protectin the block" don't help those kids one bit.

tupac shakur, emcee

The problem is - the kids identify with that image - even if they don't live it, you've convinced them they want to...or they know someone who does and because of this, the current genre of violent rap sells. And it sells so well that the big Record Labels have latched onto it - milking the violent rap cash cow for everything it's worth. Of course, watering it down is a must, so the rest of white-bread America doesn't become too alarmed at the spread of violent imagery and ideals and shuts down the big labels before they've reaped millions.

fifty cent, thug spokesman

I could care less about white-bread America though. Those aren't the people who can effect a serious change. I wish the hood would wake up. It's the hood and the ghetto and the corner where this change needs to happen. It's the smart young blacks and Mexicans and anyone else trapped in the ghetto who can make the biggest change - they can stop more pointless deaths from happening - in our music and on our streets. The rap world can make it back into the golden light of it's heyday - when rap was about house parties and battling for fun - it can be more conscientious again - more like Talib and less like Fifty, but only with the people who gave hiphop it's life and breath fighting for that change. Only those in the hood can grow out of gangsta and into good hiphop again.

krs-one, educational emcee

Don't get me wrong - some gangsta rappers are sick with it. Some of the best rhymers in the world come from the gangsta era - B.I.G. and Tupac are two of the most notable, of course. But without a significant change in the mood of hiphop, I see only more deaths - more artists lost to the gun - more innocent bystanders cut down because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. And I don't care how blind you want to be to the fact - but you and I both know that young kids imitate what they see on tv, watch in the movies or play in videogames. And rappers - don't act dumb, either. It's a fact of life that you're a role model when you become a successful rapper and when you spit about killing someone over drugs or worse, over a perceived diss - all you're doing is signing some young kids death warrant. It's on your head, homie, whether you want it to be or not.

mos def, positive emcee

Gangsta has it's place - it just shouldn't be as the frontrunner of hiphop. It shouldn't be the flagship - the one that the world forms it's opinion of hiphop from. We all like the music we like - there's nothing we can do about that - but we can make a choice to not promote violent hiphop. Like my man Jason D says, "Wise up." Even one death is too many - and we've had a hell of a lot more than one.

So wise up, before some young kid you know dies for nothing. If you're a listener, stop supporting violent raps. If you're an emcee, don't create raps that glorify violence.