I recall childhood memories. ... My over-sized brick house sat about 15 minutes outside of a decently sized northern city, and my navy Volvo station wagon (turbo) purred as I carted my little sister around town hitting the vast array of malls and mega-theaters.
I attended one of those private schools surrounding the beltway and owned more than 5 pairs of khaki pants ... what a life. I also listened to my fair share of hip hop. In doing so, I regretfully can say that its best days are behind us.
Rap caught on because it offers a chance for artists to freely express themselves (see jazz and blues).
One didn't need lessons, just hard work to develop a unique style -- A Tribe Called Quest's Q-Tip said it best in "Excursions," "My pops used to say (hip-hop) reminded him of bebop."
That's all well and good -- hip hop stayed in the black community.
But as soon as Luther Campbell (2 Live Crew), Ice T and N.W.A. made it into our mini-vans -- that was it.
Ironically enough, it was three white, suburban, Jewish kids who did the most in bringing hip hop into your room and mine.
The Beastie Boys -- originally scorned by hip-hop enthusiasts as "cultural pirates" appeared to be no more than a freak show at first.
But, by the release of their third album, Check Your Head, every white kid I knew claimed he was the next Mike D, Ad-Rock and/or MCA.
When record companies realized they could sell "black stuff" to all these white kids, it was the day the music died.
I'm sure you know where the story goes from here. MC Hammer's 1990 album Please Hammer Don't Hurt 'Em sold 10 million copies to make it the most popular rap album of all time.
Vanilla Ice went seven-times platinum the same year with To the Extreme.
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Most of you will fondly remember those as middle school years you'd like to forget.
I don't want to give off the impression that I was too good to be swept up in all this mess.
I saw Vanilla Ice and Young MC back in the day and I loved every second of it.
Now where has rap been since then? After these goofballs, I'd argue for the most part -- nowhere.
Sure, say what you will about Outkast, Puff Daddy (P. Diddy), Jay Z, 2 Pac, Biggie and even Wu-Tang, but most of it's corporate rap -- created for us, so we'll buy it.
Gone are the days of the mildly offensive, yet smooth "stylings" of De La Soul, Digable Planets and the Jungle Brothers -- not to mention the real classics like Slick Rick, Public Enemy, Run DMC, Grandmaster Flash and Curtis Blow.
Point being, we're sorry -- I'm sorry.
I'd much rather roll a blunt (something else us rich suburban white kids got the hang of pretty quickly as well) and pop in any of those aforementioned records than sit around and chill to anything on 102 Jams these days.
I want to use this opportunity to further extend my thanks to the black community for continually coming up with new things for us, brainless, culturally devoid kids to adopt as our own. Our suburban centers leave no opportunity for people to talk about what's new and create our own culture.
Whether it's music, clothes, cars or euphemisms, I salute the black community, and frankly, I don't know where I'd be without you.
Josh Baylin is looking for the next big thing in hip hop and is willing to take his shirt off, twist it 'round his hand and spin it like a helicopter. Raise up and e-mail him at jbaylin@email.unc.edu.
