Hip-Hop is going through an identity crisis at the moment. The culture as a whole is arguably one of the most misunderstood and stereotyped in common society, yet still gets caught up on a need for “mainstream” acceptance.
Big business understands the power of Hip-Hop. Marketing to the group that dictates “what’s poppin'” is a carefully choreographed dance, that doesn’t always go so well.
Kendrick Lamar’s GQ cover is a perfect example. The feature story, opens with Lamar’s “little bro” succumbing to wounds from a drive-by shooting. His label home, Top Dawg Entertainment, is called “the Baby Death Row,” and TDE CEO Anthony “Top Dawg” Tiffith is likened to Suge Knight. The story as a whole surrounds a dichotomy in which Lamar now resides. Part hood (reppin’ Compton) and part rap star (the interview takes place on a private jet, 10,000 miles above the CPT).
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Photos: GQ, The Source, XXL, Def Sounds
The anger behind GQ’s feature is understandable. Friday (Nov. 15), Tiffith released a statement which said in part:
“The story, written by Steve Marsh, put myself and my company in a negative light. Marsh’s story was more focused on what most people would see as drama or bs. To say he was ‘surprised at our discipline’ is completely disrespectful.”
Lamar was “pulled” from the mag’s celebration party Tuesday (Nov. 12) as a result, forcing a GQ rebuttal over the weekend.
Tiffith took particular issue with Marsh being “surprised” at his discipline, and yes he’s right. It shouldn’t be worth mentioning that a rapper from Compton doesn’t smoke or drink, or that a Black label CEO is “disciplined.” But regardless of GQ’s intent, it’s important to look at the root of Tiffith’s argument as it relates to Hip-Hop as a whole.
The genre was born out of defiance. A voice for a generation that wasn’t being represented in music. Now, more than 40 years later, Hip-Hop is still looking to be embraced by those who turned their noses up at the culture; and when money, power, and platinum records, can’t buy that “respect,” a protest usually ensues.
In Lamar’s case, how he and the imprint were depicted in the article –Lamar as escaping the dangerous streets of Compton, but still connected to his homes base, and TDE being a budding version of Death Row– is akin to how he and TDE have been illustrated by Hip-Hop outlets. In a XXL’s feature on TDE, label president, Terrence “Punch” Henderson is quoted as saying:
“We’re trying to go on and be listed with the great empires: Death Row, Roc-a-Fella, Bad Boy, Cash Money.”
Henderson expressing a desire for TDE to be seen on the same level as Death Row, and the label being called the “Baby Death Row” by GQ is a hefty serving of irony, with a sprinkle of “be careful what you wish for.”
All of the aforementioned rap empires that TDE presumably looks up to, center around artists whose foundations were built on street life, and criminal activity. Suge once explained that Death Row earned it’s title because “most everybody had been involved with the law,” while Rocafella Records was named after a Brooklyn drug dealer that Jay Z admired (he died of AIDS —check the Nas “Ether” lyric). If TDE’s goal is to follow in the footsteps of these labels, then they must also be prepared for the stereotypes that come with it. This doesn’t make it’s right, it’s just the reality. Henderson and TDE molded an image to “urban” media, that “non-urban” media (i.e. GQ) probably researched in order to learn about Lamar, and the label as a whole.
Publicists, managers, record labels, and even artists themselves, often impose their vision onto the media, and attack when the ideals aren’t carried out to their liking. While this is no secret, it’s not the media’s job to project how a recording artists sees themselves, that’s what the music is for.
Like it or not, writers sometimes write from their own perspectives, just as rappers sometimes rap from their own perspectives.
Two years ago, Lamar’s big “goal” was to get on the front of XXL, a “credible” magazine. At that time in his career being seen by the demographic actually supporting his music was important:
“Getting on this cover was definitely a goal because you watched all the other cats that was on there and you respect them and be like, ‘Whoa this is a credible magazine.’ You’ve gotta be dope to be on there and looked at by [XXL] so I always thought it was an accomplishment. I really appreciate y’all for looking out. I always keep the mindset that the music should go further than what it lives for, when people see the cover they’re going to expect music from me, so I’ve gotta be on top of that. I’ve gotta be on top of my interviews. I’ve gotta be on top of my shows. I just gotta keep the visuals out there now that the cover is out.” -Kendrick Lamar
By 2012, Lamar was just about everywhere. Building buzz for good kid m.a.a.d city, which debuted at No. 1 on Billboard. Hit singles surrounded him, the “Control” verse dropped, and before long “the mainstream” started taking notice. Every step in the 26-year-old’s career has inadvertently led him to this GQ moment.
According to publisher Conde Nast GQ’s audience is 73% male, age 33, with a median household income of $73,439. 2011 stats place XXL’s readership as a monthly publication at 78% (mostly African-American) male, age 27, with a median household income of $47,007.
Clearly, GQ is the upper echelon —at least in TDE’s view. But does the publication’s support, or lack thereof, change the way Hip-Hop sees Lamar? Not at all. Which is exactly why the GQ article shouldn’t be a big deal. Hip-Hop has been loyal to him and helped put him on the map because he’s a great artist, not over something as trivial as “making it out” of Compton, so to speak.
According to Forbes, Lamar brought in $9 million over the last 12 months, and that’s without GQ’s “Rapper of the Year” recognition. His music is well received by both critiques and fans, he’s won countless awards, and will likely earn a Grammy in the Best Rap Album category.
A less-than-accurate depiction in GQ doesn’t change any of that.
