When freed, they were able to exist politically, and also economically. Slaves couldn’t own property because they were property. The reasons are complex, of course, but the aspirational strain in African-American culture runs all the way back to slavery days. This linkage isn’t limited to hip-hop - all of American celebrity, to some degree, is based on showing what you can buy - but it’s stronger there. They think of success and its fruits, and the triumphant figures who are picking that fruit. I’d argue that when people think of hip-hop, pretty quickly they think of bling, of watches or cars or jewels or private jets. The other aspects serve it, but perfect performance and production of empty ideas can’t fake the fill. Or rather: what matters to art is its matter, what it’s about, the ideas it communicates to its audience. And what that means is that matter matters more than art. How devious or wonderful Producer X’s beats are can get you on your feet more quickly, but hip-hop isn’t an abstract sonic art form. Technique is a limited part of any art form, really: how well Rapper X raps is important but not central. What do people think of when they think about hip-hop? I don’t mean the technique of the music so much as its meaning.
This is the second in a weekly series of six essays looking at hip-hop’s recent past, thinking about its distant past, and wondering about the possibility of a future.
Photo: Maya Robinson and Photo David Corio
Run DMC at Hammersmith Odeon London 13 September 1986