Chuck D to Today's Young Rappers: Respect Yourself

  • Originally published in the Rocky Mountain News (Denver, CO) on February 18, 2005. Copyright 2005 Denver Publishing Company


By: Mark Brown, Rocky Mountain News

It's the lineup hip-hop lovers might have in their wildest dreams: the Sugar Hill Gang, Kurtis Blow, Naughty By Nature and Kool Mo Dee, topped off by Public Enemy. Saturday's Legends of Hip-Hop concert at the Fillmore is one show that uses the word legend correctly.

Public Enemy generally doesn't do this stuff, but entrepreneur/longtime Will Smith collaborator Charlie Mack pulled it together.

"We don't do one-offs, but this is an interesting area to build," Public Enemy rapper Chuck D. says. "Charlie Mack is trying to organize a structured, hip-hop legends concert series, trying to add that tier."

And that's vitally important if hip-hop as a genre is going to not only survive but have any overall cultural meaning.

While hip-hop is becoming one of the dominant forces in modern music, it's not treating itself with the respect it deserves, says Chuck D., the man who's single-handedly credited with bringing rap to the mainstream while creating some of the most lasting yet incendiary music of the modern era.

"If hip-hop is supposed to be the music of the young world, it's very important not to treat it like a hustle," he says from his New York home.

"When it comes down to rap, not only do the people within the circle treat it like a hustle, but everyone in rap and hip-hop treats it like hustle music, something that's disposable."

The blame lies with the media (which still discounts the music), big corporations (which exploit the music without understanding it) and blacks themselves (who sell themselves short in the genre they created).

"It's just how black people are still treated in this country. Because we're treated like that, we give in and treat ourselves as something of the moment. You see more white kids at a blues festival than black people. You know that something's gotta be wrong," Chuck D. says. "The things we create are not being revered. Why is Eric Clapton the (bomb) and Eric Gale is not?

"That's what the NBA is about. It'd be cool if we paralleled off some of the marketing of the NBA. There's no Dr. J/Michael Jordan when it comes down to hip-hop respectability. The league brings the past, present and future to the table."

Given that hip-hop is an ever-evolving genre, it takes some work, says Chuck D. (real name Carlton Ridenhour).

"(Hip-hop) was always rebelling against the status quo," he says. "If three people decide to wear their pants baggy and braid their hair up and the rest of the crowd didn't, that was considered hip-hop. Once everybody starts to do it, the conformity of it all makes whoever goes against that be hip-hop. When we see Jay-Z wear a suit, he's being rebellious to the status quo."

With its groundbreaking records of the '80s, Public Enemy was once more than the status quo - it was what every other rapper aspired to be.

"We look at ourselves as the Rolling Stones of rap. The Rolling Stones are an event. Public Enemy is an event," Chuck D. says. The Stones don't make an impact on the charts with new records these days yet retain loyal fans, he notes. "We're not going to be in the same circles of publishing and recording as Nelly. Just as you wouldn't compare Green Day to the Rolling Stones."

For Chuck D., it's all about communication, whether it was through Public Enemy classics such as It Takes a Nation of Millions To Hold Us Back and Fear of a Black Planet or other avenues. New music continues to come out, including the recent single MKLVFKWR. He also did a full-time talk show on Air America Radio during the presidential election and still does an online top-20 rap countdown through AOL. PublicEnemy.com and RapStation.com have his fingerprints all over them.

Chuck D. hopes his work on radio and AOL helps fill a glaring need for intelligent discussion about the genre.

"Radio, when it's presenting hip-hop, has always done it wack. . . . The information and facts need to be delivered about the genre and the music," he says.

"People just blindly go out and buy music or are blindly swept into it without talk. DJs used to talk about music. They do talk about music when it comes down to classic rock. They don't do that in rap music and black music."

His radio work "allows you to get a voice of clarity out there," he says.

Sometimes that voice turns against rappers, even as he hangs with them and they revere him.

"Hip-hop grosses a lot, but it doesn't mean it's satisfactory to the genre and history of it," he says. It's disjointing for him to hear young rappers praise him, then create music that's lyrically the opposite of the things Public Enemy stood for.

"A lot of people are doing things that are lyrically removed from what they truly believe. They look at the nodding acceptance from their marketing company to continue to make the dollars, and it's a dollar game," he says.

"(Music) is a big extension of what you believe in your soul. When it comes down to it, I have a lot of doubt that a lot of these cats really believe what they say. Are they doing it for their companies? They might be being paid so well, but . . . I don't believe they're doing it for the sake of art as (much as) they're doing it for the sake of their pockets. That's cultural strip-mining."

That's why hip-hop has to start treating itself with the respect and sense of purpose that other genres of music do, he says.

"Classic rock is wonderful. That's why you'll see a teen-ager wear a Led Zeppelin T-shirt. I ask you 'why?' When a 14-year-old kid buys a Beatles record, you wonder, 'How the (blazes) did that happen?' I get a lot of e-mail from kids 14 years old saying, 'I like Public Enemy.' This is why an organization of old-schoolers needs to be in place. You need fewer entertainers and more structural-administration people in our industry."