“Country and western music is not an originating element of rock and roll and such a definition would certainly have been atypical of what Alan Freed, the disc jockey who popularized the term, would have stated. But, after forty some years of misinformation and distortion, this is the accepted notion of rock and roll. It is a notion that clearly links the music to a genre – country and western – that is often associated with white people. In doing so it minimizes the actual union of so-called rhythm and blues and rock and roll, and thus the seminal role of the black community in its creation.”

 
“For the last thirty years, mitigating the importance and denying the reality of the black origin of rock seems to have been the modus operandi of cultural critics and music writers who represent the white corporate media structure. The result has been the virtual whitewashing of the rock and roll story, and the elimination of black music from the genre as it is currently constructed.”

“The first rockers established the voice as the music’s primary instrument. As it would forever be, singing was the fundamental dynamic of rock and roll. Great, powerful, sweet and poetic, singing is the glue that has kept rock together and at the top of the popular music industry. It is the soul, passion and creativity of the rock and roll singer that sets him or her apart. A rock and roll singer must have soul, must have rhythm and must appreciate the blues.

The potent new black music transcended race, gender and even age. Older African-Americans preferred the Ink Spots and Mills

Brothers, but most could not resist the tempo of Lionel Hampton or the gorgeous harmonies of the Ravens. The original rockers challenged and re-wrote the established notions and standards of popularity, virtuosity, sophistication, energy and genius. The consumer would take it all in at a show or listening on the radio. The drama and passion of the race/R & B/rock and roll music was unlike anything heard or seen before.”

“What was to become the most dynamic decade of the rock era began two years before in 1968.  Four movements had either commenced or continued development: the re-emergence of black rock and roll/funk bands; the development of jazz fusion; the progression of the vocal groups/producer model; and the evolution of introspective, socially conscious singer/songwriters.  These four, often overlapping styles within the soul/black music context were to define the ‘70s and just as importantly, establish the standards of musical artistry that would influence and undergird the next two decades of music – even into the second millennium.”

“In retrospect, it was necessary for old head soul and funk enthusiasts to understand that rap was simply something altogether different, and judging it by the same rules as earlier black music genres would not work.  It was black music and it borrowed heavily from predecessor styles, but it was a cultural development totally unto itself and insular.  Rap rejected much of the convention, rules and hypocrisy that America promoted and played by rules of its own making.  These rules and codes were sometimes destructive, but so was life in the United States.  Whether consciously or not, the kids took the stripped down opportunities and materials available and spoke their truth to a new power that a racist industry and a duplicitous black community had to notice and respect.  Young people seized on the most basic, original of musi-cal instruments – the voice – and sang their songs of pleasure, pain, frustration and joy.  Like the lad in the Bible, David, this confused but determined generation of man/woman-children provided new psalms of hope and despair in an oppressive, debilitating environment.”

“Similarly, most of our great musicians may have been revolutionary artists, but those who were willing to sacrifice life, limb or dollars for a greater cause were the minority among minorities.  Pops, Duke, Bird, Trane, Miles, JB and Marvin all were geniuses that transformed their art form.  But in the final analysis, they wanted to belong.  They wanted respect and admiration.  They hated what this country did to them and their people but they wanted to be Americans and wanted the trappings (bling-bling) the U.S. offered.

Reminiscent of the black enterprise myth exposed by E. Franklin Frazier (The Black Bourgeoisie), the idea of hip-hop as a political organizing catalyst is quite specious.  This is not an indictment so much of hip-hop as it is of the black media, body politic and academia.  The fact is that black politics, particularly after 1980, has been reactive and regressive – an impotent image of the failed neo-liberal model.  That virtually all poor, black, urban metropolitan centers are experiencing the same socio-economic problems is a disappointing testament of the failures of prior generations.  Rather than representing a potential political force the vast majority of hip-hop enthusiasts signify the same thing that afro wearing soul train dancers in the ‘70s represented – a market, to be sold to and exploited.  Biggie, Jay-Z, Ice Cube and Dr. Dre may have a little less etiquette, but they’re not that much different than their recent ancestors – they’re assimilationists, who want a big slice of the American pie.  What the commercial rappers have proven is that they can sell out with the best of them – and all the foul expletives they vented at the government oppressors early in their careers weren’t a threat to anyone, except other black people. Perhaps it’s not fair that black entertainers have to be artists as well as social activists.  But whether they should or shouldn’t have to be, let’s stop calling them (and their fans) something they’re not.  Without dramatic, sophisticated developments on the community and institutional level, to think that hip-hop will galvanize meaningful political activity and thought is no more likely than what resulted politically from the advent of jazz or rock and roll.”