Watching the video now, I can’t help but think about how much of the song and the imagery both predicts and falls short of our current moment. It presents the idea of a Black man as president as a desirable possibility paired with the worry that it may ultimately be dangerous for the person elected. So, the chorus makes me kind of… nervous. However, the song has to be historicized: it was released around the time of the last presidential election, which had a totally different political climate. More importantly, it is certainly not about our current President-elect, who was barely on the national radar at the time. Despite the nerve-wracking chorus, the song is ultimately one of hope and dreaming for things like an end to war and poverty, better schools in the ‘hood, and a cure for AIDS and cancer.
I bring up Wyclef’s video because I just saw will.i.am’s new video, in which cynicism and fear have been replaced by pure joy and celebration.
What a difference four years makes. It’s like Wyclef went to sleep four years ago dreaming of being president, and will.i.am woke up “feeling brand new/ ’cause the dreams that I’ve been dreamin/ finally came true.”
Finally, there’s no official video yet, but what do people think about Nas’s “Black President”? You can find fan videos on youtube, or listen to it at his myspace page.
A lot of people are talking about how President Elect Obama and his team ran a virtually flawless campaign from start to finish. I’d like to briefly reflect on one aspect of the campaign – music. Music has always been a powerful form of communication. The right song can define a movement, a generation, and even a campaign. Howard Wolfson (Communications Director for Hillary Clinton’s campaign) noted in a NY Times Opinion piece published on Monday November 3:
“Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Don’t Stop’ set the modern standard for campaign songs when Bill Clinton adopted it as his own in 1992. Its admonition, ‘Don’t stop thinking about tomorrow,’ dovetailed perfectly with the premise of Mr. Clinton’s run. Sixteen years later, Hillary Clinton’s campaign spent a considerable amount of time deciding on its song.”
Hillary’s team eventually selected Celine Dion’s “You and I,” which Wolfson admitted he “jokingly predicted would signal the end of the campaign.” Well … the Obama team obviously fared better, and they used a variety of songs.
First there was Ben Harper’s “Better Way,” a song with a positive message of change that likely appealed to younger voters. The campaign also used Stevie Wonder’s fun and upbeat Motown hit “Signed, Sealed, Delivered I’m Yours,” which is more well-known and likely appealed to voters of all ages. This was played before Obama took the stage late on Tuesday night, but it’s the song they played immediately after he gave his speech that I found most intriguing – Bruce Springsteen’s, “The Rising.” “The Rising” was originally released in July 2002, the title track on Springsteen’s album that he wrote in response to the September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks. The lyrics of the song allude to the struggles of the firefighters who responded on that morning, climbing higher and higher into the Towers in attempt to rescue people. 343 of these men never returned home.
Can’t see nothin in front of me
Can’t see nothin coming up behind
I make my way through this darkness
I can’t feel nothing but this chain that binds me
Lost track of how far I’ve gone
How far I’ve gone, how high I’ve climbed
On my backs a sixty pound stone On my shoulder a half mile of line
Left the house this morning
Bells ringing filled the air
Wearin’ the cross of my calling
On wheels of fire I come rollin’ down here
Luke commented in his last post about how “somber” Obama looked when he took the stage, and I agree. He struck a tone that was less celebratory and more reflective of the struggles this country has to face in the years ahead. That’s why “The Rising” proved to be the perfect song to play after his speech to communicate this message. With one choice of song, he offered a subtle and respectful homage to the victims of 9/11, showed that he recognizes we’re in a dark period right now (Can’t see nothin in front of me, Can’t see nothin coming up behind), but if we stick together there is hope for redemption:
Come on up for the rising
Come on up, lay your hands in mine
Come on up for the rising
Come on up for the rising tonight
Parenthood is undeniably a blessing. Yet, if I were to speak honestly, I’d note that there are certain drawbacks, not the least of which is ceding control over the soundtrack to your life. My sweet soon-to-be four year old doesn’t want to listen to many of my tunes. I’m fortunate that her choices are usually pretty tolerable. While I dig Dan Zanes or Laurie Berkner in small doses, they get play in our house mostly because the munchkin wants them.
Of course, she’s allowed her own music. I know our tastes will likely diverge through her adolescence, and we’ll have less of a chance during those years to connect over common sounds. That’s part of why I’m so glad that she’s worked the Dino-5 into her rotation recently. This collection of hip-hop heads is organized by Prince Paul, who produced the landmark De La Soul albums 3 Feet High and Rising, De La Soul is Dead, and Buhloone Mind State, and features Ladybug Mecca (formerly of the Digable Planets), Chali 2na (Jurassic Five), Wordsworth (an underground Brooklyn MC who appeared on records by A Tribe Called Quest and Blackstar), and Scratch (the vocal turntable, formerly of the Roots). Their debut album is a storybook, narrated by the poet Ursula Rucker, about 5 dino friends at their dino school. My kid is now walking around, rapping in the deep voice of 2na’s character, T-Rex, “I may be big and scary, but I’m really pretty nice.”
What’s so striking about the Dino 5 for me is the way they capture the essence of hip-hop as it was during its golden era in the late 1980s-mid 1990s, before capital swooped in and co-opted what was once predominantly an alternative and oppositional art form. Popping off about your fly Adidas or your adversary’s nappy head and rotund relatives, rapping about dancing, music, girls, boys, friends, enemies, and the neighborhood. Most of that gave way to Big Pimpin’, bling bling, and baseless braggadacio.
Hip-hop is still a vibrant art form, always will be, but there’s a reason that the areas of the music that challenge listeners aurally, poetically, and politically moved “underground,” out of site from the casual observer who doesn’t have the time or the passion to dig for those sounds. Hip-hop ain’t dead, y’all, far from it; it’s been integrated in interesting ways into other forms, it’s been globalized, and there’s still plenty of innovation happening. Yet hip-hop’s foundational meaning has been clouded over the past generation by its loudest voices.
So I’m happy to share with my daughter a feeling similar to what I got during my adolescence, listening to De La transmit live from Mars. The Dino 5 represent the best of hip-hop: role playing, storytelling, deep danceable beats, learned references and musical quotations, wicked flow, and lyrical playfulness. Their music is both nice enough for a four year-old and “nice” enough for her purist dad. Kid tested, pops approved.
As my daughter takes her first tentative steps towards reading, it heartens me to be able to introduce her to the poetry and artistry of hip-hop with something that’s her speed. Soon enough, she’ll be barraged with beats and words and sounds. The Dino 5’s album gives her hip-hop that’s more sophisticated than the corny rapping on Sesame Street. Hopefully, it will help her sort through the cacophony that she’ll meet as she grows, and find something that’s as meaningful to her as the music of my youth is to me.
Here’s a couple of brief clips to tack sound onto my words.
T-Rex struggles with how other kids see him, and hopes that they can think twice about how nice he may be:
Tracy Triceratops has a tough time keeping her voice down:
CAC.OPHONY is a weblog on communication-intensive instruction at the college level and its implications for students about to face the challenges of writing and speaking publicly in professional settings. CAC.OPHONY is written and edited by the Fellows of the Bernard L. Schwartz Communication Institute, Baruch College, City University of New York.
Baruch College is the 2008 recipient of TIAA-CREF Theodore M. Hesburgh Award in recognition of the Schwartz Institute's outstanding faculty development programs.
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