I Don’t Know What Life Will Be

In H-I-P
H-O-P
With out the boy
H-O-V
Not only NYC
[He’s] hip-hop’s savior?
So after this flow, [we] might owe [him] a favor
When Kingdom Come
You ready?

As much as I hate to admit it, I am human (though I am gifted with super-human intelligence. Sonny“ego-tastical”Redd). As such, I am burdened with many – if not most human frailties. (If you prick Redd, does he not bleed? If you wrong Redd, does he not revenge? [Yeah, I peep you out there. I’m gonna give you your rope. You’ll do the rest, cause you can’t possibly help yourself.] And this? This is a “Venetian Merchant” digression! I’m back bitches! Hahaha!). Not the least of which is that human emotion of blind hope. Ah, “hope,” the opiate of the dim-witted.

See, just Tuesday, I sat here and penned (or typed) what should probably be taken as a literary primer on Jay’s Kingdom Come. I’ll admit it was lazily done – I mean a “blue pill” link? Who does that? So, sue me. It was exuberance. Shit, 10 years ago the greatest hip-hop album of all time was released. Who can blame ME for being excited that the “Big Homey” has returned? I mean, I’m a freaking disciple after all. The man’s portrait hangs on my wall (No homo.). Point is, to say I am a fan is an understatement.

And so it goes that the fan of the emcee receives an album based – very closely – on a work of fiction that said fan also adores. The saying “happier than Mark Foley in the boys’ dormitory” come to mind, but I digress. So excited was I at the possible synergy created by merging of my two favorite art forms – Hip-Hop and sequential art (comic books to the uninitiated) that I posted the connection for all – without taking time to really evaluate the connection. My bad yo. It was sloppy of me. I’ll correct it now. Before I do so, buy this album – it is fire and hip-hop needs it.

Okay, so let me set the stage. Because most of you haven’t picked up a comic book since the 5th grade, and only then because it had some child friendly hook, like “Spider-Man says, ‘don’t talk to strangers...’” I gotta give you the short version. Remember the “Super-Friends” – there was Wonder Woman, Batman, Robin, Superman, Aquaman and the Green Lantern (along with the Wonder Twins, but they were waayyy ghey), all together in the Hall of Justice, saving the world every Saturday (if you are 30 plus), or Monday through Friday (under 26-30), or even real late at night on Cartoon Network (20-25).

Well, Kingdom Come takes that innocent, all good-all the time, world, and supposes that the times have changed. The Joker, one of Batman’s arch-enemies, blows up the Daily Planet and kills hundreds, including Lois Lane (yes, Superman’s girlfriend.) Superman goes off, apprehends the Joker, and brings him in for trial. The Joker, in pure OJ fashion, gets off – he was found not guilty by reason of insanity. Ah, the wheels of justice. When the Joker leaves the courtroom, he is murdered by a new hero, Magog, in classic judge-jury-executioner fashion , right in front of Superman. Magog is arrested, and tried for the murder of the Joker. Superman testifies against him – Supes (that’s what his friends call him) is righteously indignant at the brazen murder. The jury, in classic American fashion, decides that offing the Joker wasn’t a bad thing and lets Magog walk. Superman, incredulous, retires – thinking that the times have changed, and the world wants its heroes a little more blood thirsty (and murderous) than he can stomach.

Stop. See the parallel? Jay said he was “unenthused” by hip-hop when he retired. He said that lyricism was replaced by a hot beat and a catchy hook. (I gotta admit a little bit, I was sick of rap...The game’s fucked up/niggas beats is bangin’/nigga your hook did it/your lyrics didn’t/your gangsta look did it ... forget this rap shit, I need a new hustle) His criticisms were as true then as they are today, but the story doesn’t end.

Predictably, most heroes – remember, this is a world of superheroes – adopted the more violent tactics. Bystanders and villains alike were dispatched without mercy in the new world. The world in fact didn’t become safer, it became more dangerous. Then a tragedy happens. A hero, whose powers were nuclear in nature, is killed, his body becoming a nuclear bomb, and half of Kansas is wiped out.

In the wake of this tragedy, Wonder Woman implores Superman to return – to restore order to the world. Superman, refuses. Later, a group of heroes and villains get into it on the Golden Gate bridge during rush hour, endangering hundreds of bystanders. And guess who saves the day? An un-retired Superman. The citizens of the world rejoice.

Freeze. That is where we are today. Superman has returned. Hip-hop is saved. Or is it? Kingdom Come, the graphic novel, hasn’t even begun up to this point. But here is where I assumed – and Jay assumed – the story of Kingdom Come the album would end. Superman is back, and the world is saved. But, as Lee Corso would say, “Not so fast, my friend.”

Returning to the story, Superman, the most powerful superhero, offers all costumed heroes a choice, one I imagine George Bush cribbed in the wake of 9/11 – either you’re part of the solution or you’re part of the problem. In other words, he did the classic Aaron Jones/JBM move (you’d be amazed at how many folks come here looking for JBM info...) he told them “get down or lay down.” Quite gully for Superman, I must admit. The non-compliant heroes were interned in a camp, and inundated with PSA’s about their duty to defend the weak.

Well, you can imagine how well that went over, and if you can’t, I’ll tell ya – not well at all. A riot ensued at Superman’s camp. Regular humans, scared to death of another Kansas incident, sent 3 nuclear weapons to just kill all the damn heroes – shock and awe style. Shazam explodes one of the bombs (I’d explain the who-what where-why-and how, but I’ve been typing for a minute and I have a point to make damn it.) and most of the heroes die.

Now Superman is mad at the humans for trying to kill everyone, but he is calmed down and he agrees to take a less active role in the affairs of man. The end.

But let’s apply this allegorical album to the literary work it seeks to homage, shall we? What does the return of Hov mean to Hip-Hop, and lets face it, black America as a whole? Hova, from day one, made “buppie”[black urban professional] music. That’s right, I said it. As much as he wanted to reach the bottom tenth, it is his music’s resonance with the talented tenth that is its true strength. Jay made music that made you want to better yourself. You listen to Reasonable Doubt, you want to go get money – real money. You listen to All Eyez On Me, you want to snatch a purse, smack a bitch, and cry on the phone to your Momma. Listen to Doggy Style, you just want to get weeded. Listen to Talib, you want to hate whitey, and listen to Kanye, you wanna drop out of college and get some new airs so you can say, “You ain’t up on this.” But with Hov, you wanted to pop a bottle (“I thought dude’s remark was rude, okay” Classic!) and have good credit to boot. Hov made – no makes – music for Harlem, it is just Striver’s Row Harlem, and not 145th and St. Nick Harlem (Sonny “ yeah I ran in NYC in my time, but them broads can’t keep their hair done for shit”Redd). It is that niche that he serves.

And by speaking to that niche, he gets the bottom tenth because, contrary to popular belief, they’re watching you talented tenth-ers closely. Ain’t no Chanel shops in the hood. He bridged a gap in the black community, between the haves and the have-nots. But when he left, we were left with “Whoop Dat Trick”, and while it is a catchy hook, the talented-tenth really couldn’t pump it through the speakers in the cubicle, if only because one day we hope to get an office. Fiddy is Fiddy, but he ain’t too office friendly.

But Fiddy became the way of things (“I’m afraid of the future/y’all respect the one that got shot/I respect the shooter.” Fire!), and from there we got Lil’ Jon, Dem Franchise Boyz, and “insert-the-new-hotness-here.” So, Hov became an executive. And he deserves to shoulder the blame for Young Jeezy and Rick Ross. Again, neither can offer much in the way of “cubicle friendly” tunes. But he tried to bring back Hip-Hop – he signed the Roots, who will be performing long after my children are parents – and of course, Nas.

But he also returned -- rather than play the kingmaker, he snatched the crown. And now, it is me that is afraid for the future – for 2 reasons. First, hip-hop is a living, breathing, entity. It has to grow, even if I – at 33 – don’t want it to. Sure, 30 is the new 20 (Fire! Young enough to buy the right car/Old enough not to put rims on it! 22’s are so yesterday!), but if we don’t let this thing do what it’s gonna do, then it will be us, in 10 years, sitting at the Showboat in AC to see Fat Joe and Busta rapping in tuxes for $21.95 (including dinner) 3 shows nightly, talking about “I remember when...”. Hip-hop has to go where it is going to go, if it is going to evolve and grow.

Secondly, Hov’s return can only spell doom for the “second coming.” If the god-emcee has returned, the next generation Hov can’t emerge. Remember 1993-1994? At the end of 1992, there was a void. NWA’s strangle hold on Hip-Hop crumbled – largely under its own weight with internal squabbles destroying the group – and left an opening that was filled by Tribe, the Wu, some kid from Queensbridge, and some fat dude from Brooklyn. Voids must be filled.

But Jay is the ultimate filler (no Lance Bass). His presence I fear, will actually stunt the development of more “buppie rap”, if only because who the hell is going to play in his sandbox? Shit, the niggas stupid enough to do it – Game, Jim Jones – play in the dirty side, without even a nod to the “I’m not afraid of dyin’/I’m afraid of not tryin’” part of the box. I mean yeah, we wanna hear about poppin’ bottles and bangin’ models, but we also need the “I will prepare/a blue print for you to print/a map for you to get back/a guide for your eyes/so you won’t lose [the] scent/I make a stink for you to think/I ink these verses/full of prose/so you won’t get conned out of two cents” main course to go with the bubbly.

It is the “Gift and the Curse” of being the chosen one. Unfortunately – due largely to his ego, any and all challengers were so quickly dispatched (c’mon, Takeover is way better than Ether), that folks decided to play in the “gangsta” sandbox.

Just as Superman’s return in an attempt to restore order resulted in the death of countless heroes, Hov’s return may have similar ramifications. So where will that leave “buppie-rap” once Superman is deemed mortal?

“Knee deep in the concrete,” I fear. I hope (there goes that opiate again. I must be getting dumber-er in my advanced age) that I am proven wrong. After all, even the great SonnyRedd can’t be right all the time. Right?