And You Don't Stop
A hip-hop retrospective
|Posted by cassiajones on June 9, 2009 at 1:16 PM||comments (0)|
|Posted by cassiajones on June 8, 2009 at 10:21 AM||comments (2)|
For as long as I have been a writer, which is roughly my entire life, I have loved hip-hop. Not mainstream "life ain't nothin' but bitches and money" hip-hop, but authentic hip-hop. The kind that is honest, tells a story, weaves a spell, makes your head nod without you even realizing it. I remember when hip-hop was a form of therapy, of cultural observation, of minority empowerment. I remember when it wasn't infested with faceless, nameless girls in patches of fabric that are supposed to constitute a wardrobe thrusting their bodies around so that they can help make millions of dollars they will never see.
I remember when hip-hop was poetry laced with a catchy beat. I remember when it was something you were proud to introduce to the next generation. Now all I see for the most part is just a machine created by old white men who keep regurgitating the same formulas over and over.