Deconstructing the False Good Rapper/Bad Rapper Dichotomy
By Mark Reynolds
You’ve really got to feel for the Dilated Peoples.  Assuming, of course, you’ve heard of them.

If you’re a serious, studious hip-hop fan, you probably have.  The Los Angeles-based trio of rapper/ beatmaker Evidence, rapper Rakaa, and DJ Babu achieved a level of notoriety on the progressive rap circuit in the late ‘90s and ‘00s, and managed the delicate balance of maintaining their indie cred while releasing four excellent albums on a major label (Capitol).  But new label management came in with a different vision for the band, and things fell apart in due course.

But Dilated’s happy in the long run, because they’re back on their own with no corporate ‘massas’ to have to answer to.  Their CD/DVD The Release Party (Decon) smartly chronicles their ups-and-downs, and throws in their videos, two new songs and some remixed tracks for good measure.  The title track is a pun that won’t be lost on those in the music industry.  “Release party” normally refers to some catered, guest-listed affair trumpeting the official launch of a new CD.  The trio flips it into an “I Have a Dream”-sampling anthem of freeing themselves from the expectations of mega-conglomerate bean counters.

Evidence spells it out about as clearly as possible in this concert clip:

A record deal is just a key to a door that opens up a lot of bullshit, OK? Right now, live and direct, from Dilated to the people directly, no middleman, right here.  So we are independent, we are off our label, and we are celebrating. . .

Yes, you’ve got to feel a bit sorry for the Dilated Peoples.  Not because they’ve seized the freedom to make the music they want to make – that’s cause for a standing ovation these days.  No, the bummer here is that you’d think that at this moment in time, a rap band committed to artistry, community, and social integrity as core values would get a little bit more love from people wondering why such bands don’t seem to exist in large numbers.

The Release Party dropped earlier this summer, smack dab in the middle of the year-long discourse on hip-hop culture and its effect on society.  It started with the YouTubing of Michael Richards’ public use of “nigger”, and continued through the Don Imus/ “nappy-headed hos” flap.  Hip-hop culture got blamed for making such sentiments possible, maybe even permissible, to exist within the pop media spectrum.

Self-appointed culture warriors who hadn’t paid much attention to hip-hop in the past, from Oprah Winfrey’s televised summit to Myron Magnet’s neo-con, post-Cosby screed in the summer issue of City Journal, came out of the woodworks, imploring rappers to wash their mouths out with soap and address the seemingly rampant sexism and violence in their lyrics (although the debate seemed to be more energetically focused on the former, as if that would solve the latter problem all by itself).

Of course, rap is used to being a target, for some of these transgressions and others as well.  During prior dustups, the record industry was fat and happy, rap records were making money, and the furor usually wound its way to a back burner in the fullness of time.  But things in the game done changed.  The major record labels are no longer raking it in by the bushel – CD sales have been falling for years, and digital revenue hasn’t completely covered the shortfall.

Rap CDs have taken the sharpest plunge of all.  Any further devaluation of rap music in the marketplace would have been horribly bad for business, so no one was in much of a mood to pick a fight with the prevailing mood on the street.  Rap elders Russell Simmons and Master P proclaimed themselves down with the new-time religion, and even stars from the current generation like Chamillionaire renounced using “nigger”.  (See also The NAACP’s Mock Burial of Its Relevance)

Coincidentally, it just so happened to be time for Common’s new CD to drop.  The earnest, jazz-inflected Chicago rhymer has become a crossover alt-rap brand, known almost as well for his ever-present hats and burgeoning film career as for his thoughtful lyrics.  His ability to reach audiences beyond rap’s young black demographic (National Public Radio chatted up his father, who has appeared on several Common CDs, just before Father’s Day 2005) makes him an easy figure to cite, along with Mos Def and the Roots, as one of the rap acts most likely to be heralded by people who don’t like the rest of rap.

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