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"Exclusive – Mariah Carey Reveals All!"

Exclusive – Mariah shares her MJ memories.

If you ask me, I think it’s a bit much to continuously go through trying to prove that you slept with someone. Either Eminem is a skeleton in Mariah’s closet that she doesn’t want to come out or maybe he was truly a stalker that can’t seem to get over the fact that nothing happened between them. At the end of the day, she denies it and he says it happened. It’s one person’s word against the other. You can choose who you want to believe or not, but really the issue shouldn’t still be going on, and I’m sorry that I think Eminem is the one who seems to be draggin’ it out for some sort of validation.

Now Playing:

"Exclusive – Mariah Carey Reveals All!"

Exclusive – Mariah shares her MJ memories.

Yes, I know she clowned him in the video. But he started with the song on his album, so there was provocation. Remember, it wasn’t new news, but rather an old issue that he can’t seem to let go. I just think that this recent dis song “The Warning,” which threatens to release photographs is way too much effort on Eminem’s part. If he was telling the truth about their relationship, then so what. Move on. Mariah is happily married, and Eminem seems to have a problem with women. So why does he feel the need to go there with her, unless he really is obsessed?

KIM OSORIO

I haven’t been compelled to blog in a long time. 

In an era where everybody is twittering and text-messaging their lives away, a well-thought out essay that extends past 140 characters is quickly becoming a thing of the past.

But when our universe lost its brightest star on June 25, 2009, I felt a deep, overwhelming sadness that I haven’t experienced in many years and I felt moved to say….something.

My hero, Michael Joseph Jackson, is dead. 

Honestly, I’m still trying to process it–almost like the loss of a much-loved family member. I mean, hell, to many of us Michael WAS family. Much like Nike, or Coca-Cola, or McDonalds, Michael Jackson wasn’t so much a person as he was a living, breathing American institution; a ubiquitous force that has seemingly existed forever and one that we couldn’t imagine a world without. Seeing Michael onstage was less like watching a musician perform and more akin to witnessing a magician at work.

But contrary to his otherworldly stage presence and magical aura, the man we called The King of Pop proved to be a mere mortal. And now my hero, Michael Joseph Jackson, is dead.

What isn’t dead, unfortunately, is the cloud of false accusations, unsubstantiated rumors, myths, slander, and outright lies that surround his life and his legacy. The greatest myth regarding Michael Jackson is that he was a pedophile who preyed on young children. 

It is my belief now, just as it was 16 years ago, that the charges brought against Michael during his 1993 sexual abuse case were false. The allegations made by Jordan Chandler (the accuser) and his father Evan Chandler always seemed suspect to me for a few reasons:

1. Ask the average parent whether they’d want justice or money for their abused child and more than likely they’d say justice, if for no other reason than to protect their child (and other children) from a future attack. The fact that Evan Chandler was willing to essentially let Michael off the hook for a few million (reportedly 2-3), made their case seem like a well-orchestrated extortion attempt. In regards to the case, Evan was later caught on tape saying, “If I go through with this, I win big time. There’s no way I lose. I will get everything I want and they will be destroyed forever…Michael’s career will be over.” Notice that homeboy ain’t mention jack shit about his son. So much for being a concerned father…

2. Generally when victims of abuse come out with allegations against someone, other victims come forward to corroborate their story (i.e. the Catholic Church scandal, where a few parties came forward and it later led to thousands). 

Very rarely do child molesters stop at just one kid, or even two for that matter. An alleged pedophile with only two accusers is kinda like an alleged serial killer with only one body. Or an alleged sneaker addict with only two pairs of Jordans in his closet. It just doesn’t make any logical sense, nor does it coincide with the recurring psychological characteristics of most people who fall into those categories. 

In the case of Michael Jackson vs. the Chandler family, not a single corroborating witness could be found to help prosecute the case and after raids were conducted on several of Jackson’s homes, no hard evidence of sexual abuse was gathered.

Michael later settled the Chandler case out of court, not as an admission of guilt, but at the behest of his lawyers and financial advisors who warned him that a criminal trial could cost him millions of dollars in legal fees, as well as the loss of hundreds of millions in touring and endorsement revenue. With the Chandler case finally over, Michael continued to tour and released his greatest hits package “HIStory” in 1995. Ten years later though, he would face another trial that, in my opinion, would be the one to literally, and figuratively, kill him.

Martin Bashir’s heinous, Machiavellian documentary “Living With Michael Jackson” aired in 2003. It was in this documentary that Mike (albeit foolishly) talked about his fondness for sharing his bed with children, and was seen holding hands with a young boy. Shortly afterwards the young boy from the documentary, 13-year-old Gavin Arvizo (a cancer survivor who had all his medical bills paid for by Michael), accused him of sexual abuse. 

When Mike’s case against Arvizo hit airwaves in 2005, I must admit that I had my doubts. Much like the Chris Rock joke, I too shook my head in disbelief and said “ANOTHER kid!?! Mike, what the fuck?!! How could you be THAT stupid?!?!” As the case unraveled though, the financial motivations of the accuser’s family became much more apparent. 

Similar to the Chandler case from ‘93, the prosecution couldn’t produce any credible witnesses to corroborate Arvizo’s testimony against Michael. Many of the prosecution’s witnesses were either former employees of Michael who had financial disputes with him, or had criminal convictions themselves. Arvizo’s testimony contradicted previous statements he’d made to officials saying that nothing ever took place between him and Michael, and Arvizo’s mother Janet Arvizo, an eccentric woman with a prior conviction for welfare fraud, single-handedly killed the case with her flippant remarks on the witness stand and overall bizarre courtroom behavior. 

Actor Macaulay Culkin came forward in Michael’s defense and testified that no inappropriate behavior ever took place during their many times together, as did many other associates who had spent time at Neverland. Ultimately, Michael emerged from the Arvizo case with a Not Guilty verdict on all counts, but it proved to be a pyrrhic victory. The damage was already done. In the court of public opinion, The King of Pop was an unrepentant child molestor.

When defending Michael Jackson against his detractors, I am often asked if I would let one of my sons sleep over at his house. The answer is no. Shit, I wouldn’t let my sons sleep over at YOUR house. But that doesn’t make you a pedophile, it just makes me a concerned and protective dad who doesn’t leave his kids around people I personally don’t know well enough to trust. 

When it came to children, the only thing Michael was guilty of in my opinion, was naivete. While cuddling in the bed with children isn’t technically illegal, it does violate several social norms; norms that a man who dresses funny, lives at an amusement park and refers to himself as “Peter Pan” would certainly pay a higher price for breaking. When I hear the tales of Michael laying in bed with those children, watching movies, tickling, and engaging in general horseplay, it sounds less like the work of a pedophile and more like the actions of a man trying to experience a childhood he never had.

During his investigation for the Arvizo trial, Michael was examined by Dr. Stan Katz, a clinical psychologist who concluded that Michael didn’t fit the profile of a pedophile but instead that of a regressed 10 year old, an analysis which I agree with wholeheartedly. I mean after all, only a person with the simple, unsuspecting mind of a child could truly believe they could sleep in the same bed as their pre-pubescent buddies and not pay a price for it.

Still, the most saddening myth surrounding Michael’s life is that he was ashamed to be Black. During the mid ’80s, in the midst of his ever-changing skin complexion and facial features, popular opinion in the Black community was that Mike was a sellout. This was an opinion that would unfortunately haunt him for the rest of his life, but a closer look reveals quite the opposite.

As echoed by my man Scorpeze of the house music duo Windimoto in his excellent blog, Michael Jackson never tried to disown or separate himself from his Blackness at any point in his career. In fact, he was probably the most openly pro-Black pop entertainer of his time. Michael Jackson ashamed to be Black? I mean, this was the same guy who:

-portrayed Black people as kings and queens in ancient Egypt (”Remember the Time” video)
-called Tommy Mottola (his then label boss) a devil and a racist
-sang “White man’s gotta make a change” live on the Grammys in ‘88
-sang about a beautiful African woman in “Liberian Girl”
-featured an African chant at the end of “Wanna Be Startin Somethin”
-donated over $25 million to the United Negro College Fund
-sang “I ain’t scared of no sheets” in “Black or White” and upped the ante by morphing into a BLACK PANTHER at the video’s end
-wrote a song called “They Don’t Really Care About Us,” with a Spike Lee-directed video that featured prisoners raising the Black power fist
-uhhh “We Are The World” and USA for Africa, anyone?

What about this man wasn’t Black enough? Was it his battle with vitiligo and how it caused skin discoloration? Was it his excessive facial surgeries, due I’m sure in no small part to the teasing and ridicule he faced about his looks as a teenager? 

Why did we turn our collective backs on a man who always reminded us that he never forgot who he was, or more importantly, whose he was?

This essay is my plea to all people who consider themselves a fan of Michael Jackson, but especially to Black people: Don’t let them talk about our Brother. Don’t let his naysayers convict him of crimes that were never proven. Don’t let people reduce the memory of one of our greatest heroes to that of a weird guy who wore a shiny glove and molested little boys. 

When Elvis Presley died, did the media remember him as an overweight, drug-abusing racist who dated a 14 year old, or was he eulogized as The King of Rock and Roll?

When Woody Allen dies, do you think the media will focus on the controversy behind him marrying his own stepdaughter, or on the films “Annie Hall” and “Manhattan” and how great they were? (Ditto for Jerry Lee Lewis, the rock and roll pioneer who married his 13-year-old cousin.)

When people accuse Michael of being a pedophile or a child molester, ask them to provide hard evidence. Ask them to provide an opinion rooted in fact, rather than one based on gossip, hearsay, and conjecture. Chances are, they won’t be able to. The Black community has done a great disservice in not reciprocating the love that Michael Jackson showed us when he was alive. The least we can do in honoring his death is ensure that his legacy is remembered properly for future generations.

Was Michael Jackson a weirdo? Of course he was a weirdo. 

But maybe if you had been in the public eye since you were 7, had grown ass women throwing themselves at you since you were 13, suffered physical abuse at the hands of your father, watched your father and older brothers engage in sex with groupies on tour as a child, were called “Big Nose” and “ugly” by both family members AND fans, developed a skin disease that took away the one thing you repeatedly expressed your pride for, and spent the last half of your life as the most famous person on Earth, you’d probably be a bit of a weirdo, too.

I am not attempting to paint Michael Jackson as a saint, as no man ever lives up to such a lofty title. But to me, the phrase “no good deed goes unpunished” seems to sum up Michael Jackson’s life more than ever.

Why would people try to tear down a man who constantly used his power, money, and influence to help others?

Why would people express such disgust and contempt for a man who constantly sang of love and peace, and used his talent to entertain, uplift, and inspire millions?

Tell em that it’s human nature, I suppose…

Rest in Peace, Brother Michael. I love and miss you dearly.

–PHONTE

That is today’s question. Let me first say that I always have to commend Jay-Z for giving hip-hop something to talk and think about. But with the new song that he recently released and the interviews that he’s done the last two weeks to support the song, this question is begged.

Recently, Jay-Z unleashed his song “D.O.A.” on the hip-hop community. The track, which stands for “Death of Auto-tune,” takes aim at the overuse of what has become a popular staple in recent hip-hop hits.  ”This is anti-Autotune, death of the ringtone/This ain’t for itunes, this ain’t for sing-a-long,” he raps. Later on in the song, he continues, “I know we facin’ a recession/But the music y’all makin’ gonna make it a great depression.”  After the song caused a bit of a stir on the radio and internet, Jay-Z blew it out by showing up at NYC’s Hot 97 Summer Jam as a surprise guest to perform this past weekend. The industry went nuts. Now, auto-tune is the devil.

Last Monday, interviews with radio personalities such as Angie Martinez further added hype to Jay-Z’s song and comeback. In an interview with Chicago radio station WGCI, Jay-Z called the use of autotune in hip-hop a “gimmick.” He said, “I just think in hip-hop, when a trend becomes a gimmick, it’s time to move on.”

Of course, because it was Jay-Z that decided to do a song about it, so many hip-hop heads immediately jumped on the bandwagon. But the interesting thing is, I distinctly recall the use of autotune getting much criticism when Kanye dropped his last album, “808’s and Heartbreak” in November. If auto-tuning it was so bad, then why didn’t Jay drop a record about it back then?

Maybe because it wouldn’t be setting up his album as it is now. Jay-Z’s upcoming “Blueprint 3″ is set to drop in September. I understand Jay-Z’s concern with originality in hip-hop, but if he was so concerned, then where was he when BET attempted to discuss major issues in hip-hop on the television show that this here blog is named after (Hip-Hop Vs. America)? Do we ever see Jay-Z defending the culture the same way we see folks such as Talib Kweli? Do we ever even hear from Jigga when he’s not about to drop?

Ironically, during Jay-Z’s summer jam performance, he himself was surprised. T-Pain unexpectedly joined Jiggaman on stage. The irony, is that the Autotune phenomenom of recent years can be attributed to T-Pain. But of course, Jay-Z wasn’t talking to T-pain, right? And chances are, he will never truly come clean about who he was talking to. T-Pain? No. Kanye? Never!

Well, it seems as though what we could possibly have here in ”D.O.A.” is the same thing the song set out to destroy: a gimmick. Think about it. Why is it that, now, almost a year after the auto-tune phase has been beaten like a dead horse, does Jay-Z decide he’s going to address it? It’s not that what he’s saying is without merit, it’s just that it’s a little too late.

During the interview, he mentioned that he saw a Wendy’s commercial using auto-tune, and they were ”joking on it,” he described. And when the interview began to address some individuals Jay might be directing the song towards (ahem, DJ Webstar–remember the “Chicken Noodle Soup” guy who used Auto-tune recently), Jay responded, “He’s a young guy. So he doesn’t have a full understanding of what I’m saying. Maybe he’ll understand one day.”

So in conclusion, is auto-tune played out? Hmm, probably so. But wasn’t it played out last year around this time. Um, probably so. What people seem to be leaving out is that while Jay- Z takes aim at auto-tune users, young guys, and Wendy’s restaurants, he’s forgetting to give some credit to the one thing that is giving him something to rap about these days: auto-tune.

–KIM O.

For another perspective on this Jay-Z “Auto-tune” phenomenon, check out Dr. Todd Boyd’s blog (the Notorious Ph.D.).

HATER!

Definition (via Hip Hop): A noun used to maliciously describe someone who is well within their rights to not like something and make them seem irrelevant.

Nobody wants to be known as a hater. Nobody. Well, except for me.

Call me a hater. I honestly don’t mind. I remember, back on a hot, blustery August evening about 2 years ago, I was sitting (trapped) in the studio with a guy that I knew who just happened to rap (I know, who doesn’t nowadays). I was actually there to hear some new music from the producer’s other artist. However, because I am a writer, MC Rappidy Rap (who will remain anonymous) felt that he needed a stamp of approval from someone with credentials in this circle jerk of yes men we call “The Industry.” I don’t think he had a clue who he was about to play his music for.

Clutching a Corona and putting my best “Yeah, I’m interested” face on, I allowed Rappidy Rap to play me a couple of songs off of his upcoming mixtape. A couple of his rappidy rappin ass friends happened to show up to offer their undying support as they proceeded to litter themselves across the congested, dimly lit studio. When the opening bars to a song that you won’t know if I told you came on, his squad of goons began nodding their head and pumping their fists like we were at a Public Enemy, N.W.A. and Eric B & Rakim concert in 1990. The obvious problem was that we weren’t. The even more obvious problem was that – hang on, I’m trying to find the appropriate verbiage.

His sh*t was grade A-dookie. It just stank up the entire room.

As the goonery brewery continued their whiplash inducing carnage, I stared intently at my Corona and acted obliviously to the pole jocking around me as I dissected every line and hook. In the background, Rappidy Rap was staring a hole through my skull with a Cheshire Cat grin on his face as he subtly nodded his head as well. He just knew that he had the greatest thing since the Sham-wow on his hands.

And then the song ended. Uncomfortable silence ensued before Rappidy Rap’s next line cut through the tension.

“So…what do you think?” he asked.

I fumbled through numerous scenarios in my head before carefully picking my words. I may come off as a jerk but the truth is that I’m honest, not malicious.

“Honestly holmes,” I sighed as I could see the blood drain from his face. “I wasn’t really feeling it. And that’s just me saying that. Somebody else may feel it but I just don’t.”

The weed carrying captains collectively dropped their jaws as Rappidy Rap’s face tightened.

“What didn’t you like? I can take constructive criticism,” he said. [Note: Kids, when someone gives you a disclaimer, understand that it usually means they can’t take it but want to try and hear your side.]

“The hook wasn’t catchy, the cadence wasn’t exciting enough and overall it just isn’t my cup of tea,” I responded. “But just because I don’t like it doesn’t really mean anything. There’s an audience out there perhaps.”

“Oh alright,” he sharply shot back. “It is what it is.” [Can someone tell me exactly what it “is” anyway? I hate sayings that absolutely have no meaning but I digress…]

As the artist that I was waiting for arrived, I realized that I was saved by the bell. Downing the last lingering puddle of my beverage, I rose from my chair to move to the other room to hear the music I actually wanted to hear. Slapping fives and exchanging pleasantries on the way out, I couldn’t have been more than 10 feet from the door when I heard one of his boys shout out the immortal verbiage that has ruined constructive criticism – and ultimately Hip Hop – across the globe.

“Awwwww…that n*gga a hater!”

HATER. It is, hands down, the worst word ever invented. Maybe, just maybe, somebody doesn’t actually like the something. God forbid that an individual has his/her own opinion. I’m not a big fan of Salmon. Does that make me a Salmon hater? I prefer the blackberry over the iPhone. Am I a iPhone hater now? If I had to choose, I’d pick LeBron over Kobe. Oh no…now I’m hating on Kobe Bryant right?

This label really sucks. Really it does.

And it has single handedly ruined the quality of our music.

Because of the word hater, an individual isn’t allowed to disagree with anything anymore. Allow me to treat you to some examples.

 “I don’t like that song.”

“You a hater!”

“I don’t think you can buy a $2 burger with $1.22 in your pocket”

“You a hater!!”

“You can’t get a job as a pathologist if you don’t finish 10^th grade.”

“You a hater!!!”

“Damn man! You stink because you haven’t showered in 8 ½ days!”

“You a hater!!!!”

Even the most logical thing can be described as hating. It’s actually sickening to see how hating can relate to everything from musical taste to downright ridiculous thing such as having champagne taste with MD 20/20 or 40oz of Old English pockets.

Never has there been a word that effortlessly shifts the blame to the person asked of their honest opinion. I’ve seen several situations firsthand where the critic was actually made perfect sense but was ridiculed so bad, he all of a sudden became the bad guy.

The truth of the matter is that if everyone would quit being scared of being labeled as a hater and would just be honest, Hip Hop would be in a better place.

If people said how they honestly felt about songs and artists, they wouldn’t be able use this bailout terminology to replace the blame for making a craptastic song. Perhaps good music would prevail.

It’s okay to tell someone that something sucks – maybe not in those terms but you get the gist. It’s equally okay for someone to genuinely not like something. If I’m not mistaken, we are individuals with our own minds right?  

Maybe MC Rappidy Rap would dig a little deeper to make better music. Maybe the junk that ends up being released would never see the light of day.

Our standards have truly sunk to depths beyond the naked eye.

And we only have ourselves to blame.

So what I’m telling you is to embrace the word hater just like corny white folks embraced Hip Hop terms like “Fa Shizzle” and “Da Bomb.” Soon enough, it won’t be cool to call someone a hater anymore. It may actually become vomit inducing.

Truthfully…

The Hater Killed Hip Hop.

But what the hell do I know? I’m just a hater.

“If I don’t like it, I don’t like it. That don’t mean that I’m hating.” © Common.

–ANDREAS HALE

Remember several years ago when street credentials actually superceded talent? It didn’t matter that your wordplay was slick if your gunplay racked up more toe tags than the Vietnam war. Why dodge bullets when you could actually catch them with your chest and sell a few hundred thousand more copies of your latest gangster rap album/paraphernalia?

Your story > Your skills. Not that it was ever a good thing but I digress.

The fact was that being a “G” was what it was all about. Your actual skill set could be crap, but just as long as your street cred was intact, it was all good in the music industry. Labels started picking up artists simply because their rep sounded more menacing than their feeble ditties on wax. We, as consumers, bought into the façade hook, line and sinker.  

At one point, it seemed like every CD and cassette on the sales rack was chock full of gangster content. You had Compton’s Most Wanted, NWA, Bloods & Crips (remember Bangin’ On Wax?), Hi-C, 2^nd II None, South Central Cartel, etc. Even the females got into the picture.

Remember female rapper Bo$$? Her small frame would pose with automatic weapons that would make T.I. blush. She spit rhymes littered with cop killing and street hustling. But when she was exposed as a woman who was raised by church deacon parents in a Detroit middle-class household, it all went downhill. Here was a woman who attended Catholic schools and took ballet lessons but ironically titled her album Born Gangstaz. Studio gangster? Absolutely. Credibility shot to hell? Positively! 

Telling lies about your past was the equivalent to career suicide. The mere notion that you weren’t who you really said you were was quite destructive.

DJ Quik aired out MC Eiht with the line “You left out the G cause the G ain’t in you” on the venomous diss track “Dollaz & Sense.” Ice Cube ripped Eazy E a new one with a “I never have dinner with the President!” on “No Vaseline.”  The simple thought that you were a phony, a snitch, a tom or even working for “The Man” could bury your future in rap. And this is without photographic evidence.   

How things have changed.

Now a new Bawse has entered the picture with entertaining tails of being a gangster. He blew onto the scene with the massive anthem just for the streets “Hustlin’” Makes music for the maybachs and the mafia. Forget about whether he’s a good rapper or not, for Ross it was all about the big imposing looking figure with the thick beard.  

In July of 2008, Ross  was exposed by The Smoking Gun as being a corrections officer in his past. This conflicted heavily with Ross’ tales of slangin’ and thuggin.’ Although Ross initially denied that the photos provided were actually him, The Smoking Gun continued to post more and more information linking Ross to the corrections officer history.

The situation could have been easily diffused if Ross stepped up and said something like “Yes. That was me in those photos. But I was infiltrating the system while boosting my connections to the drug cartel – all while sticking it to ‘The Man!’” 

And just like that, everyone would have nodded their heads in collective approval and left him alone. Hell, he might have been even more gangster than ever before. Instead, Ross clung to those claims tighter than his satin jackets cling to his massive frame. But now, after months of lies and more evidence popping up, Ross has finally decided to step up and admit that he was a corrections officer.

This is all happening in the midst of a feud with 50 Cent where the G-Unit leader has attacked Ross’ credibility in true Fif fashion.  

Oh, what an interesting predicament we’re in. We have those who have cried “keep it real” finding out that one of their heroes was blatantly telling fibs about his past while we have others who have always been against talking about street life so freely finding a catalyst for their stance. But here’s the funny thing…

Apparently nobody cares! 

And that’s where I’m confused.

The Hip-Hop community and its consumers have been steadfast in its position of “keeping it real.” Faking jacks is the epitome of career suicide – no matter what field you are in. If you lie on your resume about being a senior VP at a marketing firm when the only marketing you’ve done was promoting your rapping friends show, as soon as you are figured out, you’re fired.

If you are in a relationship and you tell your significant other that you do not have any children out of wedlock but pictures reveal that you have seven, chances are your relationship is over.

Barry Bonds is at risk of being the biggest baseball fraud we’ve ever seen because of his claims of never knowingly taking performance enhancing drugs. If photographic evidence is ever revealed, say so long to Bonds being the greatest baseball player of our generation.

Go ahead and say somebody is “fake” and see how they react. In this community, you can call somebody anything in the good book. But as soon as you imply that they aren’t who they say they are, I guarantee that you’re claims will be met with ire and possible fisticuffs.

But in Hip-Hop, it’s the exact opposite of what it claims to be.

“Embellishment” is an understatement.

But let’s not act like Rick Ross is the only rapper whose past simply doesn’t match up with what he represents. Maybe Rick Ross was really huslin’ cocaine during his off time as a corrections officer. But the bottom line is that he did not want to reveal that he was a corrections officer for a reason – it would be damaging to his career.

Somewhere along the way, Ross decided that he could no longer hang on to this fib. Maybe he realized that it really wouldn’t matter and his fans would still be his fans whether he was a corrections officer or a part of CSI. We’ll never know.

So who is at fault for all of this?

We are.

We don’t really want reality rap. We just want rap that sounds better than our boring lives. If we as fans stop fronting, perhaps the rappers will too.

We want rap that is real to us. A “true” story of some sort right? So Rick Ross weaves tales of “Noreaga owing him one hundred favors” but his web of lies find him on the other side of the law. He lies, and lies, and lies. Then, he finally reveals that it was really him in the picture with the C.O. diploma. Tall tales should equal fake rapper to the public.

Asher Roth is a white kid from suburbia who spits rhymes about being in college and partying like there’s no tomorrow. Somehow I find that rap realer than Ross’ but Rick Ross has all the street cred. Meanwhile, the kids who buy Ross’ music are more than likely living a life that is closer to Roth’s than Ross’. And they want reality rap?

Now I’m really confused.  

Can someone explain to me the allure of being a drug dealer who happens to rap please? I honestly don’t get it. If you rap, stop dealing drugs. Makes sense right? Doing drugs, I get. Slangin’ them? Nah.

It isn’t Rick Ross kids. This is us and what we demand our rappers to be. We don’t want boring rappers without a checkered history. We ask for the thugging, stunting and hustling rappers that we are presented to us.

Separating fact from fiction isn’t part of our equation.

Is Hip-Hop just entertainment? If so, we shouldn’t care about a rapper’s background. He’s just an actor. Reality rap? Who cares! But that’s the interesting paradox that Hip-Hop finds itself in day in and day out.

It really is Deeper Than Rap.

–ANDREAS HALE

Recently, I have rediscovered my appreciation for hip-hop journalism. As someone who has been working as a journalist in hip-hop for over 10 years, I realized that, while some of us have been able to survive the slow death of publications and make our transition to the web, the art form of hip-hop journalism has somehow lost its sense of direction. But in studying the internet over the last couple of years, I have been able to distinguish good ole’ hip-hop coverage from the overdose of “content” out there.

This is not to say that I’m not a junkie who has become addicted to scouring the internet for more and more “content,” some of which is just plain ole’ bad for ya. I’ll be the first to admit that I am a part of a culture that makes sites like worldstarhiphop.com (which dubs itself the “CNN of Urban Media”) such a success. I check it almost daily for their aggregation of hip-hop related videos–be they great interviews or ignorant sometimes misogynistic video clips. Still, there are those of who seem to have forgot that there is a responsibility that comes along with the publishing of material that is created within hip-hop. As a result, hip-hop journalism seems to be dying a slow death.

I am convinced that the reason this content aggregation as it pertains to hip-hop has spun out of control is that the powers that be have no formal journalism training or no regard for it, for that matter. Therefore, traditional hip-hop journalists are either affiliated with sites that publish a wide variety of different content, or have bit the dust because they could not figure out how to compete within the sphere of the world wide web. Reputable journalists are being replaced by “content” owners and/or bloggers–talented in their own right. These individuals are beasts when it comes to web publishing, video editing, internet search and social networking, but they should not be confused with being journalists (as many have proclaimed). To their credit, however, they have been able to win because they are quick in accumulating the news and even faster in publishing it on their own blog or website. They’ve been able to corner the market online (at a much lower rate, mind you).

Still, that isn’t to say that real hip-hop journalism doesn’t exist. It just lives in a very underground area (much like hip-hop did in its infancy). And I also don’t mean to downplay the journalistic skills of some (a very few) of the bloggers and content owners that actually research and fact-check their work, come up with their own spin on a story, and do their own original reporting. It’s just my observation, but much of the “content” out there is unedited, malicious and a regurgitated form of someone else’s originality. And another thing, I’m sorry, but hiding behind the “freedom of speech” and “anti-censorship” theory is no excuse for not moderating comments on a site that bears your name or likeness or the name of a highly-respected website, especially when those comments are untrue, vulgar, and malicious. (NOTE TO BLOGGERS: when your online community is using your site to anonymously defame people and publish random banter, you should feel compelled to moderate or edit, unless you actually like spreading rumors). I tell ya, these days, hip-hop on the internet has become one big tabloid, of the worst kind.

Allow me to continue to vent. But what ever happened to original reporting? Is it all about covering the same story nowadays?Everywhere I click, I’m noticing that the same three stories are being covered on a majority of hip-hop websites every day. And the thirst to compete has made people so succeptible to any phone call from a D-list celebrity that wants to “get their side of the story out.” 

So while it’s customary for content aggregating sites to just re-publish someone else’s interview, it’s also become the norm for people on the web to borrow someone else’s content for their own benefit. Now, here’s the funny thing about that…it’s okay to do so if the bloggers or content owners are in the same network (on someone’s blogroll), but if you use someone else’s interview and you’re not “in” with them, then blogger no likey. Meanwhile, they try to call everyone else out on their “conflict of interest.”

All of this is to say that while I have enjoyed the abundance of content on the web and been able to get the news faster, the fact that I’m trained in filtering the information to get to the real story makes me wonder if the audience is doing the same. Or has the disguise of journalism as “content” just made the true art form a thing of the past? Your thoughts, please…

–KIM OSORIO

When Nas made the lyrical suggestion that hip-hop was dead a few years back, he pissed off more than a few heads. But, having written a book called The Death of Rhythm & Blues back in ‘88, I know pronouncing the death of any cultural movement, is usually intended more as a wake up call than a eulogy. Near the end of the first decade of the 21st century I don’t think hip-hop is dead, but that the definition is used so loosely now that it may have lost its meaning.

I remember a time before hip-hop, when Technic turntables were used one at a time, when rappin’ was what cool radio jocks and Isaac Hayes did, and baseball caps were for outfielders not gangstas. So I have a little perspective on this game. I remember how “fresh” (in every sense of the word) hip-hop culture felt in its ’80s incarnation, bringing essential rawness, grit and even soul back to a black popular culture that had gotten too slick, too corporate and too self-consciously commercial. And, truth is, you could make that same criticism today about much of what passes for commercial hip-hop.

Hip-hop, as I understood it, was rebel music, representing a outsider culture. It was music that spoke for people on the margins of society, people voice less in America who demanded to be listened to. It was about “making it” of course, but also it had a very underdog quality. Very “them” against “us” which gave it a lot of its passion.

So now the game is dominated by brand name icons, CEO’s of success (and excess) who speak the audience very top down, who are selling products which enrich their pockets but only have a fleeting relationship to enriching the lives of their customers. I’m not trying to romanticize the past, but to say that the perspective of hip-hop has changed so completely that it might not be the same thing it was.

I respect both Lil’ Wayne and Kanye West immensely, but most of what I hear on New York Hot 97 is really dance music. Great tracks and stick in your mind hooks abound, but both lyrically and flow-wise what I’m hearing isn’t up to the standards of ‘87 or ‘92 or ‘97. I’m not saying people aren’t making hits or that stuff isn’t sounding good in a club. I’m just not sure it’s hip-hop musically, culturally or lyrically.

So for me hip-hop isn’t dead. It’s just that every damn thing that people wanna call hip-hop isn’t and hasn’t been for quite some time. Hip-hop is a label that people stick on products — music, video games, vodka, perfume — to sell to people. But I don’t think there’s a rebellious way to smell good or wear a suit. I think we are actually in a post-hip-hop period–and that’s fine with me. History moves on and cultures evolve. But perhaps we should all be looking at every product comes our way and asking a few very simple questions: Is this hip-hop? Why and how is it hip-hop? And does it being hip-hop actually even matter?

catch ya down the road

NELSON GEORGE is the executive producer of BET’s American Gangster, and has just published City Kid: A Writer’s Memoir of Ghetto Life and Post-Soul Success” (Viking). The book will be in stores April 2.

Be sure to check out Nelson George’s, A Survivor’s Tale, featuring BET News’ Samson Styles. It is the second in a series of fictionale tales based on true events that George is producing and directing.

Over the last few weeks, I’ve been analyzing this 50 Cent vs. Rick Ross thing and the more attention I paid to it, the more I realized that I, like many hip-hop fans, are pulled into a story when there is “beef.”

It got me thinking about “beef” in hip-hop and whether or not it is good for the business of hip-hop. Now, don’t get what I am saying twisted. In no way am I saying that beef is good for hip-hop. After observing how Biggie and Tupac’s beef played out, few hip-hop fans would admit their addiction to hip-hop beef.

But after watching numerous Rick Ross videos (say it loud: BAWSE!), I’ve realized that my interest in his music has peaked. Before this drama, I was familiar with a Rick Ross song or two (”everyday I’m hustlin?”), but have never quite anticipated any of his album releases until now. When it drops, I think I’m going to listen to it all the way through, and I’ve spoken to friends who say the same. So I ask you this, is his beef with 50 Cent making him more interesting? Or are we so fascinated with the drama that it takes some good ole’ fashioned beef to pull us in.

The popularity of the Beef DVD series, produced by QD3, and later developed into a television series for BET definitely supports the theory that beef in hip-hop is something that sparks the interest.

We may not know whether beef is good for business, but when Ross’s album drops in April, we’ll have the answer as to whether it was good for his business, at least.

–KIM OSORIO

But these days, the girlfriends of rap artists are getting media attention for being just that—girlfriends. No rapping, no singing, no nothing; just the high honor of being the chosen one in the sea of women in which artists dive. So the question becomes, can being someone’s girlfriend transcend you into stardom or will these girls get the short end of the stick when, and if, the relationship fizzles out?

Kanye West is one celebrity whose girlfriends always seem to get their 5 minutes of fame. His latest, Amber Rose, a shaved-head, light-skinned aspiring model with a fierce body and a permanent cigarette attached to her fingers, seems to be the most intriguing of all, especially as the lesbian rumors continue to pour in. Blogs also say that Amber is a former stripper, and if pictures soon surface, I predict her star will rise even more so. But it still remains to be seen whether Amber’s appeal transcends being Kanye’s girl. In the past, former Kanye girls have become partially successful—depending on how you look at it. Alexis Phifer, the most recent ex, is an aspiring clothing designer, and Brooke Crittendon is a current cast member of the BET reality series, Harlem Heights.

In the case of Joe Budden and his girl Tahiry, who was just recently photographed for the cover of King magazine, the scales seem to be tipping in her direction. Unbeknownst to Tahiry, she became the star of Joe Budden’s video blogs–the reality tv-type material that became popular on his Youtube channel. Since the couple started broadcasting their private lives on the internet, Tahiry has become the latest hip-hop darling. But while a possible reality TV and modeling career could be awaiting her, will she ever grow outside of the Joe Budden girl role?

In an era where the role of women in hip hop has been reduced significantly, it remains to be seen whether dating a rapper (yeah, I said it) is the fastest way to come up. Please, let the comments begin…because I smell a part 2 coming.

–KIM OSORIO

After watching the Grammys, it was great to see Lil’ Wayne come home with awards. To see hip-hop win these awards, it’s a great thing. Hip-hop is the #1 form of entertainment. Every other form of entertainment takes something from hip-hop, whether it’s movies, sports, wrestling. Hip-hop just stays growing bigger and bigger. But in America, we take it for granted. Overseas, they study hip-hop and love hip-hop, and they know it like we know sports. In sports, we know the play by play, the scores of all the games, and that’s how these kids overseas know us here in hip-hop. They really study hip-hop, and that makes me feel like we take it for granted. To us, it’s just music and entertainment.

When I see hip-hop up there collaborating with all the other genres of music, I think it’s a little bit of a give and take. Everybody’s benefitting. When T.I. and Justin Timberlake perform together, I don’t think T.I. has to comprise who he is to do a song with a Justin Timberlake. I think it’s a hell of a song. And I think T.I. is gettin’ a lot of exposure to Justin Timberlake’s fans as well as Justin being exposed to T.I. fans. JT is stepping out of that bubblegum pop role. He’s a hip-hop artist. He’s hip-hop and R&B, not the same N’Sync artist anymore. In hip-hop, as a rapper, I’ve been on tours and been on the road with rappers, but when I went on the road with Fall Out Boy, it was a completely different working atmosphere. The way they handled their merch, you don’t see that on a lot of hip-hop tours. Like, when I went on tour with Tech 9, I learned a lot. As a whole, we need to step it up and get that merch money. Sometimes you have a hit song, but you got to cultivate those fans in order to turn hip-hop into a career. A lot of hip-hop artists get conceited and get a big head. When I was with Fall Out Boy, I saw how they really just cultivated their fans. We got to step it up with our merchandising. When’s the last time you went to a hip-hop show and you bought bobbleheads and Frisbees? I think when you out of sight, you out of mind. You gotta stay relevant in fan’s life. Even if you don’t have a song out. Snoop don’t have a song out right now, but he got one of the most watched shows on TV.

I think with hip-hop there’s so much stereotypes that we put out on ourselves. We have an image that we have to live up to. We should just go out and be ourselves and just try to grind and make it to the top, ’cause everybody is taking from hip-hop. When was the last time we had a president that listened to hip-hop?? I think sometimes friendly competition is good, but we get so caught up with competing with each other, we fail to realize this really ain’t a competition. In the end, that’s gonna lead to your downfall. You don’t sell records by being better than the next person. Some artists do feed off their competition and it helps them to become better. But me, personally, I don’t thrive off competition, that will distract me more than anything.  My mind is on getting paid, putting out good music, and keeping my fans happy.