The lyrics in David Banner’s “Mississippi” definitely describe his home state when he talks about “fuckin’ rebel flags still flyin’…where da rebel flag still ain’t burnin’” and his frustration with the state of affairs in that area. The amount of racism in the South is ridiculous, and Banner clearly feels that it’s time for that particular quirk of the Confederacy to come to an end. The Civil War was two hundred years ago and the North won. Clearly, it’s time for people to accept that. Social consciousness is also very present in David Banner’s life, most famously in his work with exhuming Emmitt Till’s body and his attention to the lynching that happened in Mississippi. Being brought into Congress to testify must have been a huge slap in the face, particularly the way that the conservative representatives spoke to him, after the amount of work that he’s done to draw attention to the racial and socio-economic divides in his home state. The passion that he feels is clearly reflected in his music (the lyrics and the beats) and the way that he appears in many of his music videos. Yes, some of it is violent and unsettling, but the injustices that he’s witnessed definitely make the violence and anger in his albums more understandable.
The rhythms, in many cases, of Southern hip-hop (or hip-hop in general) can be traced back to African tribal music, or slave drum sounds. The roots of hip-hop are deep and very traditional in some ways—including their ties to the land where much of this was born. Outkast also talks about being Southern in “West Savannah” when they say “you might call us country, but we’s only Southern and I don’t give a fuck.” Any Southerner (who is proud of their heritage) has had that feeling at one point or another. Having a drawl doesn’t negate IQ points or minimize world view; it’s just a product of upbringing.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
Dirty South
Before entering this class, the image that the words “Dirty South” would have conjured up in my mind would include dusty farmland, old trucks, Skoal rings in faded Wranglers, tobacco-stained teeth, and miles of empty dirt roads—in essence, my hometown. I would have pictured old men with shotguns, racism, and intolerance. Now, however, I see Lil Wayne, Outkast, and Lil John. My original mental picture would include Hall’s use of the all-brawn, no-brain stereotype of the black male. The only way for any young black male to achieve any sort of social standing in my hometown was to become the star of the football or basketball team, and the only way for a young black female to achieve it was to hang on his arm—another kind of trophy. Now, I see Atlanta as a sort of center for the Dirty South—in a musical sense. The idea of the ATL is a defiance against the type of traditional Southern culture that I described earlier. It’s a fist shaken at the “Old South”, the sprawling plantations and the crowded and segregated ghettos. The ATL and the music associated with it have exploded onto the international artistic landscape because it is a vocal expression of that defiance. You wanted us to be separated from you? You’re going to call us the ATL? Well, we don’t want to be associated with you anyway. We’ll just take over your city and make it as bad-ass as we are. Cobb calls Atlanta the new Mecca for black people—what Harlem was in the 20’s. Well, it is. The kind of musical revolution that took place in Harlem is taking over the entire South, with Atlanta at the center, and from there, spreading across the globe. Lil John is probably the first artist that pops into my head as an exemplification of that particular musical revolution. The biggest reason that he’s my personal touchstone to that type of aesthetic is because his song “Get Low” was probably the most often played hit of my freshman year of college—the first time I was really exposed to that type of music in any substantial way. “Wait, The Whisper Song” by the Ying Yang twins is my other sensory memory from that time period that really defines the “Dirty South” for me.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
DuBois' Colors
DuBois is obsessed with color in his writing. He describes the boiling black Colorado River, the bold black mountains, the grey and green and blue of the ocean. The descriptions that he uses most often are colors and the reason is clear. He spent much of his time focusing on color and the differences between black and white. DuBois paints a beautifully heartbreaking picture of the trials of a black man in everyday life. The fear of being discriminated against in his neighborhood, his job (or attempts to obtain one), the armed forces, even on a train. The experiences that he describes in Darkwater are things that many people wouldn’t even consider thinking about because it’s not anything that many can relate to. The reason he keeps drawing attention to the colors in the narrative is that he needs people to understand their importance. Something as simple as the amount of pigment changing the color of someone’s skin determines so much of his life, particularly in the time described by DuBois. The colors are so important because they are so trivial. Why should it matter if the oceans are black? Does it make them any less imposing or majestic? Absolutely not—they would be equally impressive if they were purple, or green. The green colors seen at the Grand Canyon could either be moss or pine. Neither is less alive or vital than the other, but the only thing he can see is color. He might be mocking the people who follow the Jim Crow laws with a statement like that. The green could either be moss or trees, but he can only see the color, so it doesn’t really matter. He knows it’s green, so from there he doesn’t need to know anything else. That could be a metaphor for the judgment placed upon black people solely due to skin color. He discusses a veil between two groups of people, one that is nearly impenetrable. Once again, the only difference between the two sides of the veil has to do with color. DuBois displays absolute brilliance in the attention that he pays to color in this narrative, because he is drawing attention to the amount of importance placed on color in the world. Using something as superficial as that as a measuring stick seems a ridiculous waste of time and even life, which is something that I believe he realized very early on and tried to pass on to a white generation that was barely listening and a black generation without any power to change it.
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