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I don't get hiphop. Actually, that's not true. There's plenty about hiphop that I know and love. While I'm far from being a scholar of the genre, I do have a pretty good idea of what I like and don't like. What I don't get is how invested an MC's success seems to be in youthful persona-building — the kind of posturing that can mean the difference between a superstar and a has-been.
An unhealthy obsession with young stars is by no means unique to hiphop, but most genres also manage to cherish their veteran heroes. That's not to say that some young artists aren't worth getting excited about. (Anyone who hasn't yet checked out the first album by Edmonton, Alberta's Cadence Weapon, Breaking Kayfabe, should definitely do so. Canadian hiphop will be huge in 2007, you wait and see.) And that's not to say that some legends aren't still being given the credit they're due. But that's not always the case.
I saw a fellow named Fatlip put on a show in Montreal a few days ago for what couldn't have been more than fifty people. Granted, Montreal isn't exactly a huge hiphop town these days, and granted, the promoters seemed to kind of book this one and forget it — but we're talking about an original member of the Pharcyde. Not only was this an MC with a hand in classics like "Ya Mama" and "Oh Shit" (verses of which he convincingly busted out at the show), but Fatlip also put out a great record last year, The Loneliest Punk, which barely made it onto the radar. Maybe there's something I'm missing here. I like hiphop when it's a bit jazzy and funky, when it's intelligent and inspiring and smooth. Those are just my tastes, but surely there are others out there that feel the same way. I had an amazing time, and the twenty or so other people that were dancing as much as I was seemed to feel the same way. I'm just wondering where the other hiphop fans were. The few hardcore hiphop heads in attendance I spoke to afterward had mostly bittersweet things to say, like "The show was great — it was just kind of sad to see him doing those classics to so few people."
Hiphop as a musical genre has always been deeply invested in hiphop as culture. But I think there's a more human element that's only starting to come out. If you haven't seen the Michel Gondry-directed Dave Chappelle's Block Party, by all means do so as soon as possible. Along with Wes Anderson and Sofia Coppola, Gondry is one of my favorite present-day directors, and (like Anderson and Coppola and any other great director), understands how humanizing music can be. Block Party is probably one of the greatest music documentaries ever made, right up there with The Last Waltz and Stop Making Sense in terms of turning a musical event into an amazing standalone story. What's more, Gondry manages — through Dave Chappelle — to tap into that very human, very personal side of hiphop, beyond the posturing. A lot of this is because Gondry and Chappelle are so good at bringing everyday people into the portrait.
Make no mistake, though, there are some killer performances as well. I had always found dead prez (alternative rappers stic.man and M-1) to be a little too aggressively political before seeing the film. I still kind of feel that way, but their performance (and Chappelle's enthusiastic endorsement) prompted me to give Let's Get Free another listen, and I'm glad I did. Beyond the politics, there's some great rapping and tons of great, gritty beats in there.
Gondry's not the first director to showcase the missing human side of hiphop. In fact, the other best example is probably Spike Jonze's 2003 documentary, What's Up Fatlip? While shooting a video with Fatlip for the song of the same name, Jonze also put together one of the most entertaining personality snapshots you'll ever see. It's included in The Loneliest Punk CD/DVD combo, but I first saw it on the Spike Jones Director's Label Series DVD (a great series, by the way; it first started with Gondry and Chris Cunningham editions and has since expanded). Maybe being acquainted with that side of Fatlip contributed to how much I enjoyed the show, but on the other hand, I can't help wondering if it's his human side on display that's seemed to put him at a disadvantage in the latter stage of his career. I guess that's just one of those things that make you go: shit.
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Here's a legitimate pick from the past: Pharcyde's Bizarre Ride II to the Pharcyde. It's been almost 15 years since this came out. A bona-fide classic, to me it showcases everything that was great about hiphop in the early nineties. It's slick and danceable and smart, and it still stands up.
Posted July 2006
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