Hip-hop, credibility, crime
Legal woes unlikely to have sway on a rapper's reputation and career
KELEFA SANNEH
New York Times
www.charlotte.com/mld/cha...103450.htm
Last week, when Lil' Kim was sentenced to a year and a day in prison for lying to a grand jury, it seemed like more proof that rappers just can't stay out of jail. The conventional wisdom is that for hip-hop stars, there's a connection between crime and credibility. Every time some rapper poses for a mug shot, there is a chorus of commentators ready to declare that it's all a publicity stunt.
The sentencing of Lil' Kim comes after two months when two rappers faced more serious charges. On June 17, the Philadelphia rapper Cassidy turned himself in to the police, who were looking for him as a suspect in a shooting that killed one man and wounded two others. Less than two weeks later, Cassidy's second album, "I'm a Hustla" (Full Surface/J Records), arrived in stores.
In May, the emerging Atlanta rapper Gucci Mane surrendered in connection with the slaying of a rapper from Macon, Ga., named Pookie Loc; the arrest came the same day as the release of Gucci Mane's new album, "Trap House" (Big Cat). Gucci Mane, who was jailed, has said that the killing was self-defense and has suggested that Pookie Loc was connected to his foe and former collaborator Young Jeezy, from the Atlanta group Boyz n da Hood, which released its thrilling self-titled debut album June 21; Jeezy's highly anticipated solo debut is due on July 26.
All of this proves what, exactly? It's clear that many rappers find themselves embroiled in violence, but it's also clear that Radric Davis had plenty to worry about even before he became a Southern sensation named Gucci Mane: He had previously been convicted on cocaine charges. And while a high-profile arrest certainly won't scare off hip-hop fans, it won't usually drive them to the record shops, either. Billboard said the arrest gave Gucci Mane a "big boost on the charts," but in fact his album made its debut at No. 101. That's not a very strong showing, especially considering the popularity of Gucci Mane's breakout hit, "Icy," a regional favorite that became a BET favorite, too.
The strange truth is that being arrested or going to prison -- even for murder -- isn't likely to have much effect on a rapper's reputation. When Lil' Kim makes her inevitable return, she'll inevitably have some rhymes about her time inside. But although some fans might admire her for not testifying against her friends (in hip-hop, as elsewhere, loyalty counts for a lot), it is by no means clear that jail will help her career. For a rapper, having your name printed in the police blotter is likely merely to reinforce whatever perceptions fans already have. Just ask Cassidy.
Even more than some of his contemporaries, Cassidy is obsessed with the question of credibility. He made his name as a witty battle rapper, then scored a pop hit with "Hotel," an R. Kelly collaboration; no battle rapper wants to be known for an R&B song. So the new Cassidy album begins with a startling track called "The Problem vs. the Hustla," in which two of the rapper's alter egos do battle. One Cassidy taunts the other, "You was crazy, man, with the punch line flow/ But now you the ladies' man. Where the punch lines go?"
Gucci Mane's album isn't great but it is more likable, not because Gucci Mane seems like a tough guy but because he sounds as if he's having fun. He loves spaced-out electronic beats, and he delves into the treacherous world of couture criticism with the self-explanatory "Booty Shorts."
The members of Boyz n da Hood, especially Young Jeezy, built their reputation on mix tapes. And from "Don't Put Your Hands on Me" (which offers straightforward advice) to "Happy Jamz" (about how listeners shouldn't expect any), the members do what Cassidy can't: they tell stories that make you want to hear more, echoing the big themes of thug life while adding their own addictive little details.
For anyone who has forgotten, "Boyz n da Hood" is a reminder that hip-hop fans aren't much different from fans of any other music. What they want -- what we want -- isn't more bloodshed; it's more albums like this one, with enough slang and swagger to make even the most preposterous stories sound true, or true-ish. If your rhymes are as seductive as Young Jeezy's, the last thing you need is a few months or years in jail. (No doubt one of his main objectives, in the days leading up to his solo debut, is to stay out of trouble.)
And if your rhymes don't ring true to begin with, an arrest will probably just make matters worse.
Legal woes unlikely to have sway on a rapper's reputation and career
KELEFA SANNEH
New York Times
www.charlotte.com/mld/cha...103450.htm
Last week, when Lil' Kim was sentenced to a year and a day in prison for lying to a grand jury, it seemed like more proof that rappers just can't stay out of jail. The conventional wisdom is that for hip-hop stars, there's a connection between crime and credibility. Every time some rapper poses for a mug shot, there is a chorus of commentators ready to declare that it's all a publicity stunt.
The sentencing of Lil' Kim comes after two months when two rappers faced more serious charges. On June 17, the Philadelphia rapper Cassidy turned himself in to the police, who were looking for him as a suspect in a shooting that killed one man and wounded two others. Less than two weeks later, Cassidy's second album, "I'm a Hustla" (Full Surface/J Records), arrived in stores.
In May, the emerging Atlanta rapper Gucci Mane surrendered in connection with the slaying of a rapper from Macon, Ga., named Pookie Loc; the arrest came the same day as the release of Gucci Mane's new album, "Trap House" (Big Cat). Gucci Mane, who was jailed, has said that the killing was self-defense and has suggested that Pookie Loc was connected to his foe and former collaborator Young Jeezy, from the Atlanta group Boyz n da Hood, which released its thrilling self-titled debut album June 21; Jeezy's highly anticipated solo debut is due on July 26.
All of this proves what, exactly? It's clear that many rappers find themselves embroiled in violence, but it's also clear that Radric Davis had plenty to worry about even before he became a Southern sensation named Gucci Mane: He had previously been convicted on cocaine charges. And while a high-profile arrest certainly won't scare off hip-hop fans, it won't usually drive them to the record shops, either. Billboard said the arrest gave Gucci Mane a "big boost on the charts," but in fact his album made its debut at No. 101. That's not a very strong showing, especially considering the popularity of Gucci Mane's breakout hit, "Icy," a regional favorite that became a BET favorite, too.
The strange truth is that being arrested or going to prison -- even for murder -- isn't likely to have much effect on a rapper's reputation. When Lil' Kim makes her inevitable return, she'll inevitably have some rhymes about her time inside. But although some fans might admire her for not testifying against her friends (in hip-hop, as elsewhere, loyalty counts for a lot), it is by no means clear that jail will help her career. For a rapper, having your name printed in the police blotter is likely merely to reinforce whatever perceptions fans already have. Just ask Cassidy.
Even more than some of his contemporaries, Cassidy is obsessed with the question of credibility. He made his name as a witty battle rapper, then scored a pop hit with "Hotel," an R. Kelly collaboration; no battle rapper wants to be known for an R&B song. So the new Cassidy album begins with a startling track called "The Problem vs. the Hustla," in which two of the rapper's alter egos do battle. One Cassidy taunts the other, "You was crazy, man, with the punch line flow/ But now you the ladies' man. Where the punch lines go?"
Gucci Mane's album isn't great but it is more likable, not because Gucci Mane seems like a tough guy but because he sounds as if he's having fun. He loves spaced-out electronic beats, and he delves into the treacherous world of couture criticism with the self-explanatory "Booty Shorts."
The members of Boyz n da Hood, especially Young Jeezy, built their reputation on mix tapes. And from "Don't Put Your Hands on Me" (which offers straightforward advice) to "Happy Jamz" (about how listeners shouldn't expect any), the members do what Cassidy can't: they tell stories that make you want to hear more, echoing the big themes of thug life while adding their own addictive little details.
For anyone who has forgotten, "Boyz n da Hood" is a reminder that hip-hop fans aren't much different from fans of any other music. What they want -- what we want -- isn't more bloodshed; it's more albums like this one, with enough slang and swagger to make even the most preposterous stories sound true, or true-ish. If your rhymes are as seductive as Young Jeezy's, the last thing you need is a few months or years in jail. (No doubt one of his main objectives, in the days leading up to his solo debut, is to stay out of trouble.)
And if your rhymes don't ring true to begin with, an arrest will probably just make matters worse.
