WHENEVER I listen to the Talib Kweli classic "Get By," I am transported to a land of rainbows and sunshine. In such a state of bliss, it is easy to think, 'Man, why can't rap always be about love and uplift and the beautiful struggle?' Indeed, many an earnest hip hop fan has, at one time or another, wished rap could quit being so wrong so much of the time, and just be more positive. Such laments are often accompanied by forlorn remembrances of the good old days, when rap was pure.
But such thinking is based on illusion. Rap has never been pure, and never should be.
In fact, negative rap is just as worthy as the positive kind. If you doubt this, try the following experiment: Next time you are in a shit mood, prescribe yourself "Shook Ones" on repeat. Bathe in the anger. Witness its healing power. When the world treats you bad, aggression in your headphones is cathartic. The less rational and sensibly-directed the aggression, the better the catharsis. This is but one of the great things about negative rap.
AGGRESSION is inherent to hip hop; few would argue with that. But some might argue that the aggression should be, like, productive rather than senseless. The work of Public Enemy, say, or The Coup, is sure not soft. It has an edge, but it's a positive edge, cutting against social injustice.
While I respect political rap, its sensible aggression does not work as "Shook Ones" medicine for me. If all angry rappers turned to socialism it'd be a dull world indeed. Hip hop can't be *good* all the time. There's something in it that yearns to be bad, and that badness is part of its allure.
A commonly-cited justification for rapper negativity is what I like to call The Documentary Argument. Once popular among the great studio gangsters of the West, it basically goes, 'Yeah I rap about drive-bys and dope slanging. This is how it is in the hood. I am a mere vessel for the truth.' It's not a bad argument, but it's a sneaky one, with omissions. It innocently pretends not to enjoy bragging about thug triumphs, when, in fact, that is half the point. (And, needless to say, the boasts can be plenty fictionalized.)
Tales of lawless violence, well-told, are fascinating, and vicarious delight in outlaw coolness is a big part of their appeal. So I can't pretend I listen to The Chronic just for accurate documentation of the Compton streets. Protected by n***** with big dicks, AKs and 187 skills is a stylized glorification of violence. Backed by synthesizey Dre sounds, it has the same visceral appeal as Ray Liotta's 'As far back as I can remember I always wanted to be a gangster.' This is art, where aggression requires no reasonableness and negativity needs no justification.
THERE MAY well be a purpose in rappers rapping their violent impulses or misogyny or homophobia, though it is slippery to pin down. At any rate, scolding misses the point. If an artist really is that fucked up, or willing to act that fucked up, I find it more interesting to ask why than to get all impotently offended. Many rappers don't respect women. It's not on me to correct them. I just take note. And if a rapper is talking about guns or hoes just out of uncreative laziness, this too is telling.
The job of an artist is to be truthful, not to be positive. Truth in art is not a matter of accurately recounting life, either; it's more wildly alchemical than that. So if Kanye really is a raging narcissist, and if Tyler (or his persona) really is a hard-core depressive, well, they're doing fine jobs expressing what lies in their beautiful, dark, twisted souls.
Positivity is critical. In hard times, a positive outlook can save a person. And some days you really do wake up feeling brand new, and jump up, and put on Kweli, and it sounds just right. But positive can't be mandatory or we'd all explode. Sometimes when life gives you lemons you'd rather throw them at pedestrians.
Besides, negativity is no less the truth. We have to be honest with ourselves about just how hard shit can suck. All rap may well be about struggle, but struggle inspires many responses: work and uplift, yes, but also escapism and rage. The rage can land anywhere (and often lands on some weaker-looking being, like, for example, a woman). The darkest hip hop gives us a depressive realist view of the world that is just as valuable as uplift. Crazy dirty club bangers give us another kind of uplift, objectionable and irresistible at the same damn time.
It is in rap's fundamental nature to need to scandalize. It does so in different ways, in different moods. It fights the power, pimps big, runs the streets, beefs with itself. We fans--especially the gentler souls among us--may think we want to tame it, but really we don't. Hip hop on permanent good behavior would cease to be hip hop.
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