Gangsta Rap (Essay)

Ever since some gang-related violence occurred at a Run-D.M.C. concert in Long Beach, CA in 1986, rap music has been controversial; hip-hop had its detractors in the '80s and still has plenty of them in the 21st century. And no form of rap has been more controversial than gangsta rap, which has been attacked by everyone from Tipper Gore to conservative talk show host Bill O'Reilly. Why have so many people been critical of gangsta rap, including some of hip-hop's non-gangsta MCs? It all comes down to the first-person format; instead of rhyming in the third person about the problems of the inner city, gangsta rappers rhyme in the first person about the lives of thugs, felons, gang members, pimps and crack dealers. Gangsta rappers portray the thugs they're rapping about, which is a lot different from what Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five (one of rap's earliest groups) did on their 1982 classic "The Message." That gem found Flash and his New York colleagues rapping in the third person about the oppressive conditions of the inner-city ghetto, but they didn't actually portray criminals -- gangsta rappers, however, give listeners the perspective of a gangbanger, a drug dealer or someone who is serving hard time for armed robbery. And for that reason, gangsta rap has often been accused of glorifying -- or even promoting -- crime and violence. But many gangsta rappers have countered that portrayal should not be confused with advocacy; in other words, the fact that Ice-T, Snoop Dogg and Dr. Dre have portrayed thugs on record doesn't mean that they're encouraging listeners to live the thug life. Ice-T would argue that when he gave first-person accounts of thug life on "6'N the Mornin'" and "Colors," it was comparable to Joe Pesci and Robert De Niro portraying hoodlums in Casino and Goodfellas -- that he wasn't promoting thuggery any more than director Martin Scorsese's modern film-noir.

Like any style of music that has generated gold and platinum sales, gangsta rap has been saturated with clone artists -- people who reasoned that the easiest way to sell a lot of CDs was to emulate N.W.A or the late 2Pac Shakur instead of developing something original. And in the hands of the clones, gangsta rap can seem like cheap exploitation and an endless stream of sexist, violent clichés. But the most compelling gangsta rappers -- including Ice-T, N.W.A, Shakur, Schoolly D, Ice Cube, Dr. Dre and the Geto Boys -- weren't about shock value for the sake of shock value. The best gangsta rap has served as an audio-documentary on the problems of the inner city; at its best, gangsta rap is film-noir with a beat.

Gangsta rap got started around 1986, when the seminal Ice-T wrote a disturbing tune called "6'N the Mornin'". Rapping in the first person, Ice-T took his audience on a guided tour through the world of a Los Angeles criminal. It wasn't the first time that a rapper examined the darker side of urban life; when Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five recorded "The Message" in 1982 and "New York, New York" in 1983, they painted a very troubling and depressing picture of the inner city. And there were many other East Coast MCs who, in the early to mid-'80s, rapped about social problems, including Run-D.M.C. and Kurtis Blow. But they never rapped about thug life in the first person -- if anything, they were complaining about the criminals who were making New York a dangerous place to live. "6'N the Mornin'," however, found the L.A.-based Ice-T portraying the sort of felon Flash and Run-D.M.C. were trying to avoid in their songs. And the first-person approach was effective on subsequent Ice-T offerings like "Drama," "Pain," "Colors" and "The Hunted Child," all of which were vehemently criticized by those who thought that he was glorifying crime and violence. But Ice-T often countered that his lyrics were being taken out of context -- that if you listened closely, his lyrics were actually anti-crime. In fact, there were no happy endings for the pimps, players and gangbangers in Ice-T's songs; they usually ended up dead or incarcerated, much like the thugs that James Cagney and Edward G. Robinson often portrayed in the '30s and '40s. In a subliminal way, Ice-T was telling his fans that crime doesn't pay; "The Hunted Child" and "Drama" paint as unattractive a picture of crime as Cagney's characters did in White Heat and Public Enemy (1931).

Although gangsta rap was dominated by the West Coast in the '80s, one of the early gangsta rappers was Philadelphia's Schoolly D. Lyrically, Schoolly wasn't as violent or as graphic as his West Coast counterparts; however, some of the first-person rhymes that he came out with around 1985-87 were more thuggish than anything else that the East Coast had to offer at the time. "PSK What Does It Mean?," "Saturday Night" and other singles that Schoolly provided during that period weren't as bloody as N.W.A or the Geto Boys, but they were still ahead of their time and deserve to be recognized as gangsta rap classics.

If gangsta rap's detractors found Ice-T and Schoolly D troubling, they were even more shocked when they heard N.W.A's influential Straight Outta Compton. Released in late 1988, that album turned out to be even more violent than Ice-T's work. N.W.A's members (Dr. Dre, Ice Cube, MC Ren, DJ Yella and the late Eazy-E) covered a lot of the same ground as Ice-T -- gang violence, drive-by shootings, drug dealing, etc. -- and the L.A.-based rappers didn't think twice about being as inflammatory as possible. One of the songs on Straight Outta Compton, "Fuck tha Police", inspired the FBI to write an angry letter to Priority Records. But Straight Outta Compton, for all its graphic violence, was far from an example of cheap exploitation -- it was really a cry for help, and the album told people all over the world just how dangerous life in Compton, CA and South-Central L.A. could be.

Other noteworthy gangsta rappers from the late '80s and early '90s ranged from the Houston-based Geto Boys to L.A.'s Cypress Hill, who brought some of the Chicano/Mexican-American influence to gangsta rap. Cypress Hill wasn't the first rap group with a Latino influence, but they were the first major group that brought a Latino perspective to West Coast gangsta rap. Meanwhile, the L.A.-based Boo-Yaa T.R.I.B.E. has demonstrated that Samoan-Americans can be a part of gangsta rap.

As influential as N.W.A turned out to be, the group only lasted about four years. In 1991, N.W.A broke up, and Dr. Dre launched his solo career with 1992's The Chronic (which was among the best selling gangsta rap albums of all time and put the distinctive Snoop Dogg on the map). Ice Cube, meanwhile, had been recording solo albums since 1990, when he left N.W.A and had a falling out with Dr. Dre and Eazy-E (who died of AIDS-related causes in 1995). Cube's solo output has always been extremely sociopolitical; if anyone has bridged the gap between the militant black nationalism of Public Enemy and the thuggery of gangsta rap, it's Ice Cube.

Most gangsta rappers have distanced themselves from the thug life that they rhyme about; a tragic exception was the late 2Pac Shakur, who was all too familiar with the urban horrors that he describes on albums like 1995's compelling Me Against the World. There was plenty of violence on Shakur's recordings, but there was also plenty of remorse -- Shakur, at times, expressed regret over having lived the thug life, and yet, he seemed addicted to it. The rapper had numerous run-ins with the law in the early to mid-'90s, and he made his share of enemies in the hip-hop world. Shakur was only 25 when, in September 1996, an unknown gunman shot him four times in Las Vegas; on September 13, 1996 (six days after the attack), Shakur's bullet wounds ended his life. And only six months later, Shakur's East Coast rival the Notorious B.I.G. was also murdered by gunfire. There was speculation that whoever murdered the Notorious B.I.G. did so to avenge Shakur's death, but nothing has ever been proven.

If gangsta rap hadn't received enough negative publicity in the late '80s and early '90s, it received even more when Shakur was killed in 1996. Nonetheless, gangsta rap continued to be incredibly popular and was still going strong when the 21st Century arrived. In 2001 and 2002, gangsta rap's critics weren't any less vocal than they had been 13 and 14 years earlier -- if anything, they had become even more vocal. And even some of gangsta rap's defenders had grown tired of all the predictable artists who kept jumping on the gangsta bandwagon. But despite all those things, the best gangsta albums -- gems like Shakur's Me Against the World, Ice-T's Power and N.W.A's Straight Outta Compton -- continue to hold up well and offer riveting descriptions of the tragic side of urban life.

by Alex Henderson

Female Rap (Essay)

Historically, rap has been a very male-dominated idiom -- much more so than R&B, country or dance-pop. That is true in the United States; it is true in Europe and Latin America, where women don't play nearly as prominent a role in rap as they do in Latin pop (a field that has given us countless female superstars). Nonetheless, female rappers have made some important and valuable contributions to hip-hop, which would have been a lot poorer without Queen Latifah, Salt-N-Pepa, MC Lyte or, more recently, Eve. From rap's old school era (roughly 1976-1982, give or take a year) to the early 2000s, the same pattern has prevailed when it comes to gender: male rappers outnumber female rappers, but talented female rappers will inevitably break through commercially. Every hip-hop era has been male-dominated but has also had some important female rap stars -- and they range from Queen Latifah, MC Lyte and Salt-N-Pepa in the '80s to Foxy Brown, Nonchalant, Da Brat and Lil' Kim in the '90s and Eve in the early 2000s.

From the beginning, hip-hop had a lot of testosterone; it has often functioned as a form of musical sportsmanship. The old school rappers who were active in Harlem or the South Bronx in the late '70s could be an extremely competitive bunch; microphone battles were quite common back then, and rappers spent a lot of time articulating why they thought they were the best and why "sucker MCs" (rival rappers) were inferior. Machismo was always a big part of hip-hop; talk show host Bill Maher (who had everyone from Chuck D to Snoop Doggy Dogg to Lil' Kim on his Politically Incorrect show when it was on ABC in the late '90s and early 2000s) has often said he loves the fact that rap is the one form of American music in which a male point of view is celebrated instead of marginalized. That said, hip-hop hasn't necessarily excluded a feminist perspective either -- the female rappers who have succeeded in their field have had a reputation for being assertive, take-charge women. No one could ever accuse MC Lyte, Roxanne Shanté, Queen Latifah or Foxy Brown of projecting a wimpy image or coming across as shrinking violets; if anything, the fact that hip-hop (hardcore rap more than pop-rap) tends to be so competition-minded forces female participants to have more of a feminist outlook.

The first example of a female rapper recording as a solo artist came in 1980, when the Philadelphia-based Lady B recorded her single "To the Beat, Y'all" for Sugar Hill Records. After that, Lady B didn't make rapping her main focus; she ultimately made her mark as a radio DJ in Philly. Nonetheless, she is a historically important figure, as are the members of the Sequence -- an early female rap group that also recorded for Sugar Hill Records in the early '80s and was quite popular during hip-hop's old school era. Another noteworthy female MC from that period was Sha Rock, who was part of a mostly male group called the Funky Four Plus One.

Unfortunately, the female rappers who were popular during rap's old school era were unable to maintain their commercial success when hip-hop's second wave (Run-D.M.C. , LL Cool J, Whodini, the Fat Boys, among others) took over around 1983-84. In rap, the turnover can be mind-blowing -- hip-hop has always had an "out with the old, in with the new" attitude, and MCs who stay on top as long as L.L. Cool J are the exception instead of the rule. By the mid-'80s, Sha Rock and the Sequence were considered old school, and there were plenty of younger hip-hop women to take their place (if you want to look at it that way). Roxanne Shanté, the Real Roxanne (a Puerto Rican MC), MC Lyte, Salt-N-Pepa (who were originally known as Super Nature), Queen Latifah, Antoinette, Sparky-D, Ice Cream Tee, Monie Love, Sweet Cookie and Pebblee-Poo are among the female rappers who emerged in the mid- to late '80s. And that list of artists underscores the fact that female rappers are as diverse a bunch as male rappers. While Shanté and MC Lyte are essentially hardcore rappers and are famous for their battle rhymes, Salt-N-Pepa have had more of a pop-rap focus -- the group has had no problem appealing to urban contemporary and dance-pop audiences.

When it came to female rappers, the term pop-rap could mean different things in the '80s. Salt-N-Pepa and Oaktown's 3.5.7 (who were MC Hammer protégées from Oakland, CA) had crossover appeal, but they weren't bubblegum -- certainly not the way that J.J. Fad and L'Trimm (two female pop-rap groups of the late '80s/early '90s) could be bubblegum. The Miami-based L'Trimm (best known for their 1988 hit "Cars with the Boom") never received any respect from rap purists, who disliked their cutesy, girlish image and their frivolous lyrics. But L'Trimm's work should be enjoyed for what it is: goofy, silly, frivolous, escapist fun. Comparing L'Trimm to MC Lyte or the Real Roxanne would be like comparing Poison to Slayer -- L'Trimm didn't pretend to be hardcore rap any more than Poison pretended to be death metal.

The early '90s saw the rise of a variety of female rappers, who ranged from Ice Cube associate Yo-Yo to the militantly sociopolitical (and downright controversial) Sista Souljah to some very sexually explicit groups: Chicago's HWA (Hoes with Attitude) and L.A.'s Bytches With Problems (BWP). Both of those groups came out with their first albums in 1990, which was six years before the release of Lil' Kim's debut solo album, Hard Core. Like HWA and BWP before her, Kim has never been the least bit shy about having X-rated lyrics. Kim commands a large following, but she also has her detractors; some feminists have argued that her willingness to exploit sex promotes the objectification of women. But if anyone is being objectified on Kim's albums, it's men. Kim has always projected a take-charge image on her albums -- if anything, Kim's releases have portrayed her as the dominatrix and men as the submissives who do her bidding. On the song "Not Tonight," for example, Kim bluntly states that she expects any man she is intimate with to perform oral sex on her -- and that men who cannot pleasure her in that way shouldn't even bother wasting her time.

The list of other female rappers who started recording in the '90s is a long one. It's a list that includes, among many others, Nonchalant, Da Brat, Mia X, Foxy Brown, Bahamadia, LeShaun, the Conscious Daughters, Shorty No Mas, Heather B, Overweight Pooch, Tam Tam and Queen Mother Rage. Gangsta rap was very male-dominated in the '90s -- like rap in general -- but it did give us Sh'killa, a Bay Area rapper who set out to be the female equivalent of Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg or Warren G. Sh'killa's Gangstrez from da Bay (released by Priority in 1995) was right out of the Dre/Snoop/Death Row Records school of West Coast G-funk.

The majority of female rappers have been black -- at least in the United States. But some white female rappers have recorded albums over the years, and they have ranged from L.A.'s aggressive, in-your-face Tairrie B (who was very much a hardcore rapper) to pop-rapper Icy Blu (who Irving Azoff's Giant Records envisioned as a female version of Vanilla Ice). In 1990, Tairrie went after the hip-hop world with her debut album, The Power of a Woman, which didn't sell. And subsequently, she shifted her focus from hardcore rap to rap-metal and alternative rock as a vocalist for the band Manhole (more recently known as Tura Satana).

When the 21st Century arrived, rap wasn't showing any signs of becoming less male-dominated -- the high level of testosterone that rap had in the late '70s and early '80s wasn't any weaker in 2000, 2001 or 2002. But if women were still a minority in rap, they were a commercially viable minority; Lil' Kim and Foxy Brown (just to give two examples) continued to command sizable followings, and the early 2000s were a great time for the Philadelphia-based Eve (whose first album came out in 1999). Again, every hip-hop era has had some major female stars, and there is no reason to believe that the future will be any different.

by Alex Henderson

European Rap (Essay)

"Representing the 'hood" is a term that one frequently hears in hip-hop circles. Historically, rappers have been obsessed with telling you where they're from and why they're proud to be from a particular area. That's why Run-D.M.C. described themselves as "kings from Queens" (as in the Queens borough of New York City), and it's why N.W.A called their second album, Straight Outta Compton (as in Compton, CA, the tough Los Angeles ghetto that N.W.A was from). It's also why hip-hoppers from Long Island, NY affectionately call that area "Strong Island" and why many southern MCs refer to their region as the Dirty South (not dirty as in physically unclean -- dirty as in having explicit lyrics). From Master P in New Orleans to the Roots in Philadelphia, rappers all over the United States have been representing the 'hood and doing so in a very loud, vocal way -- they want to make sure that listeners know exactly where they're from.

But the 'hood doesn't necessarily have to be in the United States or anywhere else in North America. Rap is huge in most parts of the world, and there are hip-hop scenes in places that range from Rio de Janeiro, Brazil to Tokyo, Japan to Johannesburg, South Africa. There are rappers in Mozambique; there are rappers in the Philippines and different parts of India (where numerous Indian pop singers have incorporated hip-hop elements). The main focus of this essay, however, is European rap, and that could be anything from an Irish MC in Dublin to a German rapper in Munich (which the English-language section of a German hip-hop website calls "Muthaphukkin' Money Makin' Munich"). When a European rapper talks about life in the 'hood, he/she could be talking about Venice, Italy -- or perhaps the 'hood could be in Stockholm, Sweden or Barcelona, Spain. From Scandinavia to Portugal, hip-hop has been huge in Europe since the '80s.

In terms of European geography, this essay does not take a purist approach and classifies British, Scottish and Irish rap as part of the European hip-hop spectrum. Technically, the British Isles are not right on the European continent; one couldn't drive a car from London to Vienna or from Dublin to Geneva (unless the car could also function as a submarine -- and those kind of cars only exist in sci-fi movies). Nonetheless, the countries of the British Isles (England, Ireland and Scotland) are essentially part of the greater European community, and Americans tend to think of them as European countries -- if your ancestors were from Ireland but you were born and raised in New Jersey, you're considered a Euro-American. And if you're busting a rhyme on the streets of Manchester, Dublin or Glasgow, you're as much a part of European rap as someone from Paris, Copenhagen or Berlin.

For the most part, European rap has received very little attention in the U.S. -- and the language barrier has been a definite factor. To a hip-hop head from West Philly, East Oakland or South-Central L.A., it might sound strange to hear Germany's Die Fantastischen Vier rapping in German, Italy's Articolo 31 rapping in Italian or France's MC Solaar rapping in French. But it isn't considered strange in Europe, where all of those artists are well known and have sold a lot of CDs. Europeans, for the most part, tend to be a lot more multilingual than Americans; it isn't uncommon for someone to graduate from a European high school speaking several languages fluently (including English). Consequently, European hip-hop heads are used to hearing MCs flowing in different languages -- they speak enough English to understand most or all of Jay-Z's lyrics, but they're also quite comfortable hearing MC Solaar getting busy in French. Solaar (a jazz-influenced alternative rapper along the lines of De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest and the Jungle Brothers) is not only a major rap star in France; he's also sold a ton of CDs in other European countries. Solaar isn't nearly as well known in the U.S., but like other major European rappers, he has demonstrated that an MC can be a superstar by catering to the European market.

The fact that Europeans tend to be more multilingual than Americans not only explains why European rap fans are willing to hear rapping in different languages -- it also explains why some rappers from countries where English isn't the official language have been able to rap in English exclusively (including Denmark's Bootfunk and Sweden's ADL). Again, becoming multilingual is encouraged in many of Europe's public school systems, and fluency in English is a goal of many European kids -- they want to be able to understand the dialogue in a Martin Scorsese movie, the lyrics of a Lil' Kim tune or the material on CNN's website. In terms of language, European MCs generally feel that different options are available; a Dutch rapper might feel perfectly comfortable flowing in English, or he/she might prefer to rap in Dutch. Hip-hop fans in Holland (where the popular rappers have ranged from DTF and 24K to the Osdorp Posse) are open to hearing local artists rapping in either Dutch or English -- for that matter, Dutch rap fans are open to hearing rapping in French, German, Italian or Spanish. MC Solaar and Die Fantastischen Vier (whose name is German for the Fantastic Five) have sold plenty of CDs in the Netherlands.

Because English is the primary language of the British Isles, it stands to reason that British, Irish and Scottish MCs have a greater chance of reaching the American market than someone who raps in Dutch, German, French or Italian exclusively. And on rare occasions, British rappers have enjoyed exposure in the U.S. -- Monie Love, who reached her commercial peak in the late '80s and early '90s, is the British MC who has enjoyed the greatest commercial success in North America. Other noteworthy British hip-hoppers have ranged from the London Posse, Derek B and the Demon Boyz to the Wee Papa Girls and the Cookie Crew (two female pop-rap groups that have been described as a U.K. equivalent of Salt-N-Pepa). Linguists who take a close look at the hip-hop trends of the British Isles will hear the English language used in many different ways; British rap has, in some cases, sounded like a mixture of Cockney and African-American slang, whereas Irish and Scottish rappers have often combined a brogue with African-American slang. In fact, one can hear the parallels between House of Pain (the Irish-American rap group that made Everlast famous) and Scaryéire, a hardcore rap group from Ireland. Scaryéire is an intriguing example of multiculturalism -- the Irish rappers love African-American culture, but instead of trying to sound exactly like black MCs from the U.S., they combine African-American and Irish/Celtic influences. Instead of rapping about growing up in the projects of North Philly -- something they haven't experienced -- Scaryéire's members are wise enough to rap about something they do have first-hand knowledge of: life in Ireland. Scaryéire has represented the 'hood, which is also what rappers have done in Italy (where noteworthy hip-hoppers have ranged from Nuovi Briganti to the militantly sociopolitical 99 Posse). Italian hip-hop heads will tell you that MCs from different parts of Italy rap with different accents -- in Palermo, for example, one might encounter MCs with a Sicilian/Southern Italian way of rapping, whereas MCs from Milan have more of a Northern Italian flow. And there's a similar situation in Spain, where a rapper from Barcelona is likely to have a different accent from a Madrid-based rapper. It should be noted that Spanish-language rapping in Spain sounds a lot different from Spanish-language rapping in Latin America; similarly, Portuguese-language rapping in Portugal sounds a lot different from Portuguese-language rapping in Brazil (the only Latin American country where Spanish isn't the official language).

Although much of this essay has focused on Western Europe, hip-hop has been getting bigger and bigger in Eastern Europe. Back in the '80s -- when Eastern Europe was still dominated by Soviet-style communist regimes -- hip-hop was very underground in places like the Soviet Union, Poland, Czechoslovakia (now the Czech Republic) and Hungary. Rap, like rock, was especially frowned upon in Albania and Romania, both of which had brutally repressive, totally xenophobic Stalinist regimes. But after the fall of communism in Eastern Europe in the late '80s and early '90s, it became a lot easier to obtain rap CDs in that part of the world. Rappers from former communist countries have ranged from Poland's BZiK to the Czech Republic's Rapmasters.

Whether or not European rap artists will make inroads in the U.S. remains to be seen; obviously, Europeans who rap in English have a better shot than those who don't (although British, Irish and Scottish rappers have tended to do much better in Europe than in North America). But then, plenty of European MCs have been selling a ton of CDs with little or no help from the U.S. market -- and that trend will likely continue for some time to come.

by Alex Henderson

Electro (Essay)

Before the rise of gangsta rap in the late '80s -- before N.W.A, Ice-T, Ice Cube and the late Eazy-E became international stars -- many Los Angeles rappers were known for a very different type of sound. Some have called that sound electro-hop, which is certainly as good a term as any. Electro-hop (or simply electro) was rap, but it wasn't hardcore rap and didn't appeal to rap purists any more than Shania Twain or Faith Hill appeal to country purists. Electro-hop was electronic pop-rap for the dance floor, and even though rap purists were vehemently critical of it (especially on the East Coast), the high-tech style did enjoy a small cult following on the West Coast in the '80s.

L.A.'s best known electro-hop artists included, among others, the Egyptian Lover, the Arabian Prince, the Unknown DJ, the World Class Wreckin' Cru and Uncle Jam's Army (whose name was inspired by Funkadelic's 1979 album Uncle Jam Wants You). Pop-rappers the L.A. Dream Team also made some contributions to electro-hop, although not everything they recorded was in that vein. All of those artists came along in the early to mid-'80s, a time when hip-hop was still dominated by the East Coast -- mostly New York, although Philadelphia was developing an increasingly healthy rap scene. Electro-hop didn't get much respect on the East Coast, where b-boys and rap purists liked to poke fun at the style. Some East Coast MCs called it "jheri curl music," a disparaging reference to the jheri curl hairstyle that was popular on the West Coast at the time. But as much as electro-hop was ridiculed in New York, Boston and Philly, the style was actually based on one of the hottest East Coast rap records of 1982: Afrika Bambaataa's "Planet Rock," which sampled Kraftwerk's 1977 hit "Trans-Europe Express". The same East Coast b-boys who dissed electro-hop had nothing but kind words for Bambaataa, who was among the masters of early New York hip-hop -- when one is talking about the history of old school rap in Harlem and the South Bronx, Bambaataa's name should be mentioned alongside Grandmaster Flash & the Furious Five, Kurtis Blow, the Treacherous Three, Grandmaster Caz and Kool DJ Herc. Bambaataa was the among the true heavyweights of early East Coast rap, and his futuristic "Planet Rock" single sounds like the blueprint for so much of the West Coast electro-hop of the early to mid-'80s. In fact, you could say that artists like the Egyptian Lover, the Unknown DJ, the World Class Wreckin' Cru and the Arabian Prince were downright obsessed with "Planet Rock."

Electro-hop also owed a huge creative debt to Kraftwerk, the seminal German group that wrote the book on what is now called electronica. Without question, Kraftwerk were way ahead of their time; the innovators were into synthesizers and drum machines at a time when those things were still considered novelties in rock and R&B circles. The electronic pop and dance music that Kraftwerk started providing in the early '70s not only helped pave the way for electro-hop -- Kraftwerk also had a major impact on everything from techno to house music to trance. And Bambaataa knew exactly what he was doing when he sampled Kraftwerk's "Trans-Europe Express" on "Planet Rock."

Outside of Southern California, there were various hip-hop heads who had a "Planet Rock"-minded approach in the early to mid-'80s -- artists like Newcleus (best known for their 1984 hit "Jam On It") and the Boston-based Jonzun Crew. But people who were really into hip-hop in those days could tell Newcleus or the Jonzun Crew from West Coast artists like the Egyptian Lover and the Arabian Prince.

Not every rapper who was active in Los Angeles in the early to mid-'80s wanted to record electro-hop. In fact, there were some L.A.-based rappers who totally rejected it and preferred a more hardcore approach -- people who identified with the East Coast b-boy sounds of Run-D.M.C., the Fat Boys and L.L. Cool J instead of the electro-hop of the World Class Wreckin' Cru and Uncle Jam's Army. One of them was Toddy Lee, a talented but underexposed MC who is best known for his 1985 gem "Batter Ram" (a sociopolitical song that dealt with the drug epidemic in South-Central L.A. and the Los Angeles Police Department's use of the controversial battering ram). "Batter Ram" had nothing to do with electro-hop -- it was straight-up hardcore rap, and the song demonstrated that L.A. rap could be as gritty and hard-hitting as New York or Philly rap. Another important L.A. rapper from that period was King Tee, who like Toddy Tee, didn't receive the national fame he deserved but is still a historically important figure.

However, L.A.'s most important hardcore rapper of the early to mid-'80s was Ice-T, who wrote the book on West Coast gangsta rap when he recorded "6'N the Mornin'" in 1986. Even before he embraced gangsta rap, he was a hardcore rapper -- Ice-T had a straight-up b-boy outlook as early as 1983, when he provided his first single, "The Coldest Rap". Although he didn't become nationally famous until 1987, Ice enjoyed a small West Coast following in the early to mid-'80s -- a time when hardcore rap was, as he put it, "real underground" in Southern California. You might say that Ice was on a mission in those days; he was determined to see Los Angeles become known as a bastion of hardcore rap, and eventually, he got his wish.

L.A.'s electro-hop era unofficially started coming to an end when Sire/Warner Bros. released Ice's debut album, Rhyme Pays, in 1987. Arguably, that album put the first nail in electro-hop's coffin. A major triumph for gangsta rap, Rhyme Pays made Ice a major name in rap and showed the hip-hop world that hardcore rap could, in fact, come from the West Coast. Thanks to Ice, more A&R people started to become comfortable with the idea of hardcore rap coming from California -- they started taking a closer look at West Coast rap and realized that not all of it was electro-hop. And if A&R people needed additional examples of hardcore rap coming from L.A., N.W.A gave it to them with N.W.A and the Posse in 1987 and Straight Outta Compton in 1988. The more popular Ice-T and N.W.A became, the more A&R people realized that gangsta rap could be a lot more profitable than electro-hop.

Not that Ice-T or N.W.A's first albums killed electro-hop immediately; female pop-rap trio J.J. Fad had an electro-hop hit in early 1988 with "Supersonic." Electro-hop continued to be recorded after the rise of gangsta rap in 1987 and 1988, but it became a lot less plentiful by the early '90s. Ironically, one of the people whose name became synonymous with gangsta rap had been an important figure in electro-hop: Dr. Dre. In his pre-N.W.A days, Dre was a member of producer Alonzo Williams' World Class Wreckin' Cru; Dre started out as an electro-hopper, not a gangsta rapper. But Dre grew tired of the electro-hop sound, and he reinvented himself in a major way when he became part of N.W.A along with Ice Cube, MC Ren, DJ Yella and the late Eazy-E. Dre was a cult figure during his years with the World Class Wreckin' Cru; he became a superstar after joining N.W.A.

N.W.A's first lineup also included the Arabian Prince, who Dre knew from the World Class Wreckin' Cru. Before N.W.A, the Arabian Prince focused on electro-hop and was both a solo artist and a member of the Wreckin' Cru. He was also down with Uncle Jam's Army, a collective of electro-hop-oriented DJs, producers and rappers that held huge dance parties in L.A. in the early to mid-'80s. In 1988, the Arabian Prince left N.W.A to concentrate on his solo career, and his post-N.W.A recordings of the '90s were gangsta rap -- in the '90s, electro-hop was a thing of the past for the Arabian Prince.

When hip-hop historians look back on the history of West Coast rap, electro-hop isn't the first thing that comes to mind. They think of N.W.A's Straight Outta Compton and Ice-T's innovative crime rhymes. They think of L.A.-based gangsta rappers like Above the Law, Cypress Hill, Compton's Most Wanted and DJ Quik, and they of artists who recorded for Delicious Vinyl Records (including Young MC and Tone-Loc). They think of Warren G's G-funk, and of course, they think of Dre's first solo album, The Chronic, and artists who recorded for Death Row Records in the '90s (including the distinctive Snoop Dogg and the late 2Pac Shakur). But they don't give much thought to electro-hop, especially if hardcore rap is their preference. Nonetheless, the electro-hop scene was an interesting footnote in the pre-gangsta rap, pre-Straight Outta Compton era of West Coast rap.

by Alex Henderson

Chucho Valdés (Biography)

Cuban pianist, bandleader, composer and arranger Chucho Valdes is a highly accomplished and influential figure in the world of Latin and Afro-Cuban jazz. Born in Quivican in 1941, Valdes is the son of the similarly influential Cuban bandleader Bebo Valdes from whom Chucho first received piano lessons. Having exhibited musical talent from a young age, Valdes eventually enrolled in the Municipal Music Conservatory of Havana, graduating at age 14. Inspired by such jazz pianists as Art Tatum and Thelonious Monk, Valdes quickly formed his first jazz trio and began a fruitful period that found him landing several high-profile performance jobs in hotels around Havana including performing with the Sabor De Cuba Orchestra which was directed by his father. These performances continued throughout the '60s and allowed Valdes  not only to perform with the best musicians in Cuba, but begin to formulate his own unique ideas about mixing jazz, classical and Cuban styles of music. In 1970, Valdes and his combo became the first Cuban jazz group to perform abroad after appearing at the Jazz Jamboree International Jazz Festival in Poland.

In 1973, formed the innovative and highly influential Latin jazz ensemble Irakere. The group featured various members of the Orquesta Nacional de Musica Moderna including such stars of the Cuban music scene as trumpeter Arturo Sandoval and alto saxophonist Paquito D'Rivera. With its unique mix of jazz, rock, funk, classical and traditional Cuban rhythms, Irakere was an explosive and creative ensemble that quickly caught the attention of international audiences. Although there have been many compilations of Irakere, it was the band's Grammy winning 1979 self-titled concert album, recorded at the Newport Jazz Festival a year before, that really sparked international interest in the group. Although the band's line-up has changed over the years -- D'Rivera defected to the United States in 1980 and Sandoval (who did not defect until 1990) formed his own group in 1981 -- Irakere continues to perform and record with Valdes and new members.

Although Valdes never left Cuba, the four-time Grammy winning and three-time Latin Grammy winning virtuoso has kept a high-profile touring schedule and in 2006 was named the Goodwill Ambassador of the Food and Agriculture Organization of the United Nations. Since the '80s, Valdes has released a steady flow of albums including 1986's Lucumi (Messidor), 1998's Bele Bele en la Habana (Blue Note), 2000's Live at the Village Vanguard (Blue Note), 2002's Fantasia Cubana: Variations on Classical Themes (Blue Note) and 2010's Chucho's Steps.

by Matt Collar

Simon & Garfunkel (Biography)

The most successful folk-rock duo of the 1960s, Paul Simon and Art Garfunkel  crafted a series of memorable hit albums and singles featuring their choirboy harmonies, ringing acoustic and electric guitars, and Simon's acute, finely wrought songwriting. The pair always inhabited the more polished end of the folk-rock spectrum and was sometimes criticized for a certain collegiate sterility. Many also feel that Simon, as both a singer and songwriter, didn't truly blossom until he began his own hugely successful solo career in the 1970s. But the best of S&G's work can stand among Simon's best material, and the duo did progress musically over the course of their five albums, moving from basic folk-rock productions into Latin rhythms and gospel-influenced arrangements that foreshadowed Simon's eclecticism on his solo albums.

Simon & Garfunkel's recording history actually predated their first mid-'60s hit by almost a decade. Childhood friends while growing up together in Forest Hills, NY, they began making records in 1957, performing (and often writing their own material) in something of a juvenile Everly Brothers style. Calling themselves Tom & Jerry, their first single, "Hey Schoolgirl," actually made the Top 50, but a series of follow-ups went nowhere. The duo split up, and Simon continued to struggle to make it in the music business as a songwriter and occasional performer, sometimes using the names of Jerry Landis or Tico & the Triumphs.

By the early '60s, both Simon and Garfunkel were coming under the influence of folk music. When they reteamed, it was as a folk duo, though Simon's pop roots would serve the act well in their material's synthesis of folk and pop influences. Signing to Columbia, they recorded an initially unsuccessful acoustic debut (as Simon & Garfunkel, not Tom & Jerry) in 1964, Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M. They again went their separate ways, Simon moving to England, where he played the folk circuit and recorded an obscure solo album.

The Simon & Garfunkel story might have ended there, except for a brainstorm of their producer, Tom Wilson (who also produced several of Bob Dylan's early albums). Folk-rock was taking off in 1965, and Wilson, who had helped Dylan electrify his sound, took the strongest track from S&G's debut, "The Sound of Silence," and embellished it with electric guitars, bass, and drums. It got to number one in early 1966, giving the duo the impetus to reunite and make a serious go at a recording career, Simon returning from the U.K. to the U.S. In 1966 and 1967, they were regular visitors to the pop charts with some of the best folk-rock of the era, including "Homeward Bound," "I Am a Rock," and "A Hazy Shade of Winter."

Simon & Garfunkel's early albums were erratic, but they steadily improved as Simon sharpened his songwriting, and as the duo became more comfortable and adventurous in the studio. Their execution was so clean and tasteful that it cost them some hipness points during the psychedelic era, which was a bit silly. They were far from the raunchiest thing going, but managed to pull off the nifty feat of appealing to varying segments of the pop and rock audience -- and various age groups, not just limited to adolescents -- without compromising their music. Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (late 1966) was their first really consistent album; Bookends (1968), which actually blended previously released singles with some new material, reflected their growing maturity. One of its songs, "Mrs. Robinson," became one of the biggest singles of the late '60s after it was prominently featured in one of the best films of the period, The Graduate (which also had other Simon & Garfunkel songs on the soundtrack).

It was unsurprising, in retrospect, that the duo's partnership began to weaken in the late '60s. They had known each other most of their lives, and been performing together for over a decade. Simon began to feel constrained by the limits of working with the same collaborator; Garfunkel, who wrote virtually none of the material, felt overshadowed by the songwriting talents of Simon, though Garfunkel's high tenor was crucial to their appeal. They started to record some of their contributions separately in the studio, and barely played live at all in 1969, as Garfunkel began to pursue an acting career.

Their final studio album, Bridge Over Troubled Waters, was an enormous hit, topping the charts for ten weeks, and containing four hit singles (the title track, "The Boxer," "Cecilia," and "El Condor Pasa"). It was certainly their most musically ambitious, with "Bridge Over Troubled Waters" and "The Boxer" employing thundering drums and tasteful orchestration, and "Cecilia" marking one of Simon's first forays into South American rhythms. It also caught the confused, reflective tenor of the times better than almost any other popular release of 1970.

That would be their last album of new material. Although they didn't necessarily intend to break up at the time, the break from recording eventually became permanent; as Simon began a solo career that brought him as much success as the S&G outings, and Garfunkel pursued simultaneous acting and recording careers. They did reunite in 1975 for a Top Ten single, "My Little Town," and periodically performed together since without ever coming close to generating albums of new material. A 1981 concert in New York's Central Park attracted half a million fans, and was commemorated with a live album; they also toured in the early '80s, but a planned studio album was canceled due to artistic differences. 

by Richie Unterberger

Bass Music (Essay) (by Alex Henderson)

When rap fans think of Florida-style bass music, they think of sexually explicit lyrics and fast, hyper, ultra-energetic tracks--in other words, the main ingredients of a 2 Live Crew album. Bass music doesn't necessarily have to have X-rated lyrics; DJ Magic Mike, one of bass' founding fathers, isn't known for inundating audiences with raunchy lyrics (which are known as "booty rhymes" in the southern United States). But whether the lyrics are sexually explicit, mildly risqué or relatively clean (or even if a bass tune doesn't have any lyrics at all), bass is straight-up party music and takes dead aim at dance clubs -- specifically, black dance clubs of the Deep South, where bass has enjoyed its greatest popularity. And even though bass hasn't had much acceptance from hardcore hip-hoppers in northeastern cities like New York, Philadelphia and Boston, millions of bass albums have been sold below the Mason Dixon Line.

Bass artists don't necessarily have to live in Florida; some have come from other southern states like Georgia (especially Atlanta) and Alabama. But Florida is considered the capitol of bass, and it is the home of the Miami-based 2 Live Crew and the Orlando-based DJ Magic Mike (who was born Mike Hampton in 1967). However, the 2 Live Crew was actually formed in Los Angeles, where they recorded their debut single, "The Revelation," in 1985. Lyrically, the song was worlds apart from the X-rated booty rhymes that the 2 Live Crew would be known for only one year later. A very sociopolitical offering, "The Revelation" found the group addressing issues like poverty, unemployment, drugs and black-on-black crime and concluding that all of those problems were part of Biblical prophecy. And musically, "The Revelation" was quite different from what was to come; the tune's high-tech, synthesizer-driven production was mindful of the West Coast electro-hop sound that artists like the Egyptian Lover, Uncle Jam's Army, the Unknown DJ and World Class Wreckin' Cru were known for at the time. Nor did the single's b-side "2 Live" have the Miami bass sound; "2 Live," with its scratching/beat box approach, is very New York-sounding. So neither "The Revelation" nor "2 Live" were typical of the 2 Live Crew's '80s output -- not musically, not lyrically.

The album that put Florida-style booty rhymes on the map didn't come until 1986, when the 2 Live Crew recorded their first album, 2 Live Is What We Are. By that time, the group had left L.A. for Miami and given themselves a musical and lyrical makeover. The ultra-fast, dance-oriented grooves were the essence of bass -- Luther Campbell's version, anyway -- and the lyrics were about sex, sex and more sex. "We Want Some Pussy", the album's lead single, was certainly a major departure from "The Revelation"; so was the equally raunchy "Throw That D" (another major hit from that album). Rapper/producer/A&R man Campbell (who started out as the 2 Live Crew's manager before becoming an actual member) can take much of the credit for the sleazier approach that the 2 Live Crew decided to take after moving to Miami. He was a major fan of comedians like Rudy Ray Moore, Richard Pryor and Redd Foxx, and 2 Live Is What We Are reflected Campbell's appreciation of their off-color humor. Commercially, Campbell's obsession with sex paid off; 2 Live Is What We Are went gold and made the 2 Live Crew's version of bass extremely popular in the South. Their relentlessly exuberant grooves influenced everyone from Afro-Rican (a Florida group) to Uncle Al to female pop-rappers L'Trimm (a delightfully silly group that was detested by hip-hop's hardcore but was still a lot of fun). Not all of the bass artists who came out of Florida in the late '80s were influenced by the 2 Live Crew's lyrics, but most of them were influenced by their beats and their tracks.

DJ Magic Mike, meanwhile, had his own version of bass in the late '80s -- one that was influenced by the Ultramagnetic MCs and Mantronix (both New York acts) and didn't try to emulate the 2 Live Crew's tracks or lyrics. But like Campbell and the 2 Live Crew, Mike was very club-friendly and acquired a devoted following in the South. Although Mike sold millions of albums in the '80s and '90s, he didn't receive as much publicity as the 2 Live Crew -- and that stems from the fact that he wasn't nearly as controversial. Campbell and his associates received a lot of negative publicity in the late '80s and early '90s, which only made them sell more records.

In 1989, the 2 Live Crew's third album, As Nasty as They Wanna Be (which contained the hit "Me So Horny") came under attack from the Christian right. Jack Thompson, an attorney who was active in the Christian right movement, declared war on the 2 Live Crew and argued that their sexually explicit recordings were in violation of obscenity laws -- Thompson even went so far as to assert that As Nasty as They Wanna Be should be banned and that retailers who sold the album should be arrested and jailed. By doing so, he made Campbell a poster child for the First Amendment. Many First Amendment advocates argued that banning As Nasty as They Wanna Be would be blatantly unconstitutional -- that even though a tune like "Me So Horny" wasn't everyone's cup of tea, it didn't violate obscenity laws. The people who criticized Thompson came from both the left and the right; the attorney's critics ranged from ACLU members to some of the more libertarian Republicans (who reasoned that if conservatives are supposed to believe in small, limited government, Thompson was really an authoritarian instead of a true conservative).

The more Thompson railed against Campbell and his company Luke Records (originally known as Luke Skyywalker Records), the more As Nasty as They Wanna Be sold; eventually, it went double platinum. And Campbell used all of the controversy to land a distribution deal with Atlantic Records, which distributed the 2 Live Crew's fourth album, Banned in the USA, in 1990. Unintentionally, Thompson not only gave the 2 Live Crew a boost -- he gave bass music in general a boost. So in the final analysis, Thompson's war on the First Amendment backfired.

Banned in the USA was a big seller, but by the mid-'90s, the 2 Live Crew's popularity had decreased. However, bass music on the whole still had a lot of fans. Some of the major bass artists of the '90s included, among many others, 95 South, Uncle Al , the Get Funky Crew (who had a southern hit with "Shake Them Titties"), Freak Nasty, the Quad City DJs and the 69 Boyz. 95 South is best known for their 1993 hit "Whoot, There It Is," which shouldn't confused with a similar bass tune by Tag Team (an Atlanta-based duo) called "Whoomp! There It Is". In 1993, the latter became the theme song of the Philadelphia Phillies when they battled the Toronto Blue Jays in the World Series (a major baseball competition in the United States). Phillies fans chanted the phrase "Whoomp, there it is" repeatedly at Phillies/Blue Jays games, although the chanting ended when the Blue Jays won the World Series that year.

Hearing people in Philly chanting the lyrics of a bass tune in 1993 was ironic because for the most part, bass music hasn't received a lot of support from rap fans in Philly, New York or Boston. Some northeastern hip-hoppers, in fact, have been downright hostile to bass, which they see as lowest common denominator music and a bastardization of New York hip-hop. But the bass artists of the '80s and '90s didn't lose any sleep over the fact that they weren't as big in Philly or New York as they were in Atlanta, Miami or Memphis -- like the gangsta rappers of the West Coast, they realized that one could easily sell plenty of albums without the support of the Northeastern Corridor. Again, most of bass' support has come from the southern states, where tunes like the 69 Boys' "Tootsee Roll," the Dogs' "Do the Nasty Dance," Duice's "Dazzey Duks," Uncle Al's "Slip and Slide," the Quad City DJs' "C'mon N' Ride It (The Train)" and Exit 25's "Do the Hop Scotch" were club hits and fared well among black fraternities. If you attended a black fraternity gathering in Florida, Georgia, Mississippi or Alabama in the late '80s or '90s, you were bound to hear some bass jams. Bass has also done well on the West Coast -- certainly much better than it has around the Northeastern Corridor -- but overall, bass has been a southern thing.

In the late '90s and early 2000s, bass' popularity in the South was seriously challenged by rap's Dirty South school, which has given us everyone from New Orleans' Master P to Atlanta's Goodie Mob. Even so, no discussion of the history of southern rap would be adequate without some mention of the bass phenomenon.

Alternative Rap (Essay) (by Alex Henderson)

Historically, the word "alternative" has been applied to styles of music that are outside of a genre's mainstream -- alternative rock, alternative country, alternative metal, etc. These days, the term alternative rock is really just a figure of speech because alternative rock and alternative pop-rock have been very mainstream since the early '90s. Artists who are considered alternative rock or alternative pop-rock -- which could be anyone from Pearl Jam to No Doubt to Garbage -- are very much a part of rock's mainstream and have sold millions of albums in the '90s or 2000s. And alternative metal (which is part of alternative rock) now dominates the metal field.

But alternative rap, like alternative country, is another matter. Alternative rappers are still outside of hip-hop's mainstream -- they aren't necessarily obscure or unknown, but they aren't expected to have as much commercial success as Eminem or Lil' Kim either. So one can argue, with some justification, that alternative rap really is an alternative to something. Just as the Blood Oranges and Frog Holler (two alternative country-rock/No Depression bands) are considered an alternative to Faith Hill, Shania Twain and Garth Brooks -- the big names of modern country radio -- alternative rappers like the Roots, Blackalicious and Common (formerly known as Common Sense) could be considered an alternative to Jay-Z or Snoop Dogg. Alternative rap is an alternative to hardcore rap, gangsta rap and Dirty South; it is also an alternative to commercial pop-rap.

Alternative rap isn't one particular sound, but rather, a variety of sounds -- alternative rap could be anyone from De La Soul and their disciples to Gang Starr to the very sociopolitical Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy. Exactly when alternative rap got started is open to debate. Arguably, the first important alterna-rap effort was De La Soul's adventurous debut album, Three Feet High and Rising, which Tommy Boy Records released in 1989. Incorporating everything from psychedelic rock to jazz, the Long Island group's first album was amazingly ambitious and went down in history as one of alternative rap's definitive releases. Three Feet High and Rising wasn't pop-rap -- certainly not in the way that Salt-N-Pepa, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince or MC Hammer were pop-rap. But at the same time, De La Soul didn't have the macho, hyper-masculine image that Run-D.M.C., Big Daddy Kane and LL Cool J were known for -- let alone the thug image that N.W.A, Ice-T, the Geto Boys, Schoolly D and other gangsta rappers were projecting in the late '80s. Rather, De La Soul went for a hipster image, and Three Feet High and Rising appealed to the alternative rock crowd as well as hip-hop audiences. But in some cases, alterna-rappers have appealed to alternative rock audiences almost exclusively. The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, for example, had a lot more acceptance in alternative rock circles than they had from hip-hop's hardcore -- and the fact that they reworked the Dead Kennedys' "California Uber Alles" (an early '80s punk classic) certainly didn't hurt their credibility in rock circles.

3 Feet High and Rising proved to be quite influential -- even seminal. The artists who De La Soul influenced in the late '80s or '90s included, among others, A Tribe Called Quest, Digable Planets, Common and the Pharcyde. De La Soul was part of a larger East Coast posse known as the Native Tongues; other members of that alternative rap-minded posse included the Jungle Brothers and A Tribe Called Quest, whose 1990 debut People's Instinctive Travels and the Paths of Rhythm was every bit as eccentric, quirky and experimental as Three Feet High and Rising. The Native Tongues were known for their eccentricity (among other things), and in alternative rap circles, eccentricity is a plus. Beck, one of the many alterna-rockers who has been greatly influenced by hip-hop, obviously identifies with alternative rap's quirkiness and eccentricity -- his 1996 smash "Where It's At" had alternative rap and the Native Tongues written all over it.

Alternative rap was never dominated by any one particular city. A lot of important alterna-rappers have come from the New York area, including De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest, the Jungle Brothers and Gang Starr. But some of the most critically acclaimed alterna-rappers have also come from Philadelphia (the Roots), Chicago (Common), Oakland (Digital Underground) and Los Angeles (the Pharcyde). And alternative rap doesn't necessarily have to come from the United States; MC Solaar, for example, is a French alterna-rapper who made a name for himself in the early '90s. Musically, there are parallels between Solaar and American alterna-rappers like Digable Planets and Common, but Solaar's lyrics are in French -- and the language barrier has prevented him from becoming well known among American hip-hop fans. However, Solaar is a major star in Europe, where people are likely to speak more than one language.

One of the things that alternative rappers have been known for is sampling jazz extensively. When other East Coast rappers were still sampling James Brown to death in the late '80s and early '90s, De La Soul and A Tribe Called Quest were sampling jazz recordings. There is no law stating that alternative rappers have to sample jazz, but the practice has been quite common. John Coltrane, Donald Byrd, Art Blakey, Horace Silver. Freddie Hubbard and Herbie Hancock are among the countless jazz heavyweights who have been sampled by alterna-rappers -- check the credits of a Digable Planets or Tribe Called Quest CD, and you're bound to see some jazz samples listed. The members of Digable Planets were obviously Miles Davis fans; the title of their 1993 hit "Rebirth of Slick (Cool Like That)" was no doubt inspired by Davis' seminal Birth of the Cool sessions of the late '40s and early '50s (which wrote the book on cool jazz). In fact, a lot of veteran jazz artists have received royalty payments when their work was sampled by alterna-rappers -- that is, if they held onto their publishing. When this journalist interviewed the late soul-jazz/hard bop organist Jack McDuff for some liner notes back in 1997, he pointed out that one of his fellow jazz veterans (a saxophonist) had received a royalty check for no less than $257,000 thanks to an alterna-rapper who had sampled one of his old recordings. McDuff knew the saxophonist personally, and he took pleasure in knowing that a hip-hopper had enabled one of his colleagues to earn an additional $257,000 for something he had recorded decades ago. So in McDuff's mind, alternative rap was a very good thing for veteran jazz musicians who had kept their publishing.

As a rule, alternative rap has been marginalized in the hip-hop world; nonetheless, some alternative rappers have sold a lot of units, including De La Soul, A Tribe Called Quest and the George Clinton-influenced Digital Underground. But in many cases, alternative rappers have underscored the fact that what music critics like and what rap audiences actually buy can be two very different things. The Roots, the Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, Blackalicious, the Jurassic 5 and Common are five perfect examples of alterna-rappers who have been adored by critics but have often received more support from alternative rock fans than from hip-hop's hardcore. Those artists have received more than their share of rave reviews -- and they have had their share of devoted fans -- but they haven't sold as many CDs as hip-hop's major superstars. The Roots aren't as big as Eminem or Nelly; Blackalicious and Common haven't outsold DMX or Busta Rhymes. And it isn't uncommon for an alternative rapper to be a college radio favorite who has a hard time getting airplay on urban contemporary stations. But that doesn't necessarily worry alterna-rappers -- some of them thrive on their outsider status and don't stress over the fact that they're more popular among college radio and indie rock audiences than they are in the 'hood.

For the most part, alternative rap has been known for unthreatening, nonviolent lyrics; De La Soul and their allies were never into the thug-life imagery of gangsta rap. But that isn't to say that alternative rap lyrics are fluff -- far from it. The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, for example, were as fiercely sociopolitical a group as Public Enemy or Boogie Down Productions, and they rapped about issues like racism and sexism. But their rock-minded, industrial-friendly approach kept them from appealing to rap purists. Common, meanwhile, isn't as consistently sociopolitical as The Disposable Heroes of Hiphoprisy, although he questioned gangsta rap's excesses on his 1994 single, "I Used to Love H.E.R." (which led to a mini-feud with former N.W.A member Ice Cube).

It's unlikely that alternative rap will ever become rap's primary direction the way that alternative rock became rock's primary direction in the early '90s. Nonetheless, the music that is loosely defined as alternative rap has had an enthusiastic cult following and will probably continue to do so.

Kate Bush (Biography)

One of the most successful and popular solo female performers of the past 20 years to come out of England, Kate Bush is also one of the most unusual, with her keening vocals and unusually literate and complex body of songs. As a girl, Catherine Bush  studied piano and violin while attending the St. Joseph's Convent Grammar School in Abbey Wood in South London. She also amused herself playing an organ in the barn behind her parents' house. By the time she was a teenager, Bush  was writing songs of her own. A family friend, Ricky Hopper, heard her music and brought Bush  to the attention of Pink Floyd lead guitarist David Gilmour, who arranged for the 15-year-old Bush to record her first demo. With Gilmour's help, Bush was signed to EMI Records at age 16, though the company made the decision to bring her along slowly. She studied dance, mime, and voice, and continued writing. She also began thinking in terms of which of the 200 or so songs she'd written would be part of her first recording, and by 1977, she was ready to begin her formal career, which she did with an original song, "Wuthering Heights," based on material from Emily Bronte's novel (and more directly inspired by Bush's seeing the 1970 film directed by Robert Fuest and starring Timothy Dalton and Anna Caulder Marshall).

The song would set a pattern for much of her future work, which was filled with literary and other external thematic allusions, and sometimes made even fans feel as though her lyrics ideally would come with footnotes -- heady stuff for a teenage rock singer in the late '70s. Her precocity was demonstrated by the approach she took to the song, deliberately affecting what she felt -- in her mid-teens -- was the voice of a ghostly Cathy, whom she regarded as a dangerous, grasping figure, reaching out to her lover even from the grave. "Wuthering Heights" rose to number one on the British charts when it was released in 1978, and Bush became an overnight sensation at the age of 19. Her debut album, The Kick Inside, a collection of material that she had written from 15 onward, some of it displaying extremely provocative and sophisticated sexual references and images, reached number three and sold over a million copies in the U.K.

Bush's second album, Lionheart, reached number six but didn't achieve anything like the sales totals or critical acclaim of its predecessor, and in later years Bush regretted the rush involved in planning and recording that album to capitalize on the success of her debut. In England during the spring of 1979, Bush embarked on what proved to be the only concert tour of her career to date, playing a series of shows highlighted by 17 costume changes, lots of dancing, and complex lighting. Bush was also apparently the first rock performer (at least since the days in the early '60s when Sweden's Spotnicks experimented with a more primitive version of the technology) to make use of a wireless voice microphone, which freed her up to move around the stage as few singers before her had been capable of doing. The tour proved both exhausting and financially disastrous, and ever since then Bush has avoided any but the most limited live concert appearances, primarily in support of certain charitable causes. This absence from the concert stage and the extended periods -- often as much as three to five years -- between albums, and the dense, reference-filled nature of her songs and lyrics, have also resulted in Bush becoming one of the more enigmatic pop artists in England since the Beatles; her relatively private personal life has only added to the mystique surrounding her. But her relative aloofness and her unusual sound and approach to pop music also made it more difficult to "explain" or encapsulate her work in a few words to the uninitiated, especially in America, where radio play and television exposure proved much harder to come by during the first few years of her career.

By the start of the 1980s, Bush was established as one of the most challenging and eccentric artists ever to have achieved success in rock music, with a range of sounds and interests that constantly challenged listeners, encompassing literature, art, poetry, cinema, history, and all manner of other subjects. "Babooshka" (1980) became her first Top Five single since "Wuthering Heights," and her subsequent album, Never for Ever, entered the British charts at number one in September of 1980. During this period, Bush began co-producing her own work, a decisive step toward refining her sound and also establishing her independence from her record company. Although 1982's The Dreaming reached number three, the single "There Goes a Tenner" failed to reach the charts, and most observers felt that Bush had lost her audience. Bush was unfazed by the criticism, and even began taking steps to make herself more independent of her record label by establishing a home studio, this partly in response to EMI's huge studio charges on her previous records -- from the mid-'80s onward, Bush was free to spend her time at her leisure working out her sound, and it seemed to pay off with her next release.

After two years' absence, Bush re-emerged in August of 1985 with "Running Up That Hill," which became her second biggest-selling single. The accompanying album, Hounds of Love, the first record made at her 48-track home studio, debuted on the British charts at the number one position in September of 1985 and remained there for a full month, and soon after "Running Up That Hill" gave Bush her long-awaited American breakthrough, reaching number 30 on Billboard's charts. By this time, in England Bush was ranked alongside of Madonna in terms of her musical impact, "Running Up That Hill" having bumped "Like a Virgin" out of the number one chart position. The changes in her sound and her development as a writer/performer were showcased in the January 1987 best-of collection The Whole Story, for which she also re-recorded the lead vocal for "Wuthering Heights" to bring the song more in line with her sound as it was in her twenties (she later admitted that she would have liked to have done something similar with several of her other early recordings done when she was in her teens). The album also featured her latest single, "Experiment IV," whose lyrics were built on a science fiction storyline that was echoed in the video, which Bush directed with a cast of familiar movie performers, and which came out like a miniaturized musical version of a Quatermass-like chiller. That same year, Bush won the Best British Female Artist award at the sixth-annual BRIT Awards in London.

In October of 1989, Bush's first new album in almost four years, The Sensual World, reached the British number two spot, and received an unprecedented promotional push in America, where she signed with Columbia Records for her future releases. Bush's next album, The Red Shoes (1993), inspired by the 1948 film by Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, debuted in the American Top 30, the first time one of her albums had ever charted that high -- Bush made a rare personal appearance in New York that December, an autograph signing at Tower Records on the Lower East Side, and the resulting line of admirers stretched almost six blocks, and required her to extend her appearance by several hours (she was still delighted and amazed by the procession five hours into the event). It would be another 12 years before Bush would resume her recording career. Rumors of a new album began circulating in the late '90s. During this time, Bush became a mother and quietly retreated to her countryside home on Berkshire, Reading, England. In 2005, Bush finally released her follow-up to The Red Shoes, the double-disc set Aerial.

by Bruce Eder