Revolution rap
Dead Prez's master plan
by Jon Caramanica
Revolution is a commodity these days -- the capitalist system is so accelerated
that voices of dissent quickly find themselves incorporated into the
mainstream, neutered by the very structures they seek to challenge. As Public
Enemy and Boogie Down Productions heard so often at the turn of the last
decade, the very fact that major labels released their music undermined the
message, since the support for their "revolution" could be withdrawn at any
time.
Since that era, of course, there's been no radical movement in hip-hop to
negate. Smug self-satisfaction long ago replaced righteousness as the dominant
hip-hop worldview; even in these post-mortem times, few artists are challenging
the status quo. Which is what makes the debut album from Dead Prez, Let's
Get Free, so shocking. A Brooklyn duo via assorted stints down South, Dead
Prez are the closest hip-hop has come to an ideological position since Public
Enemy. And like PE, who came out on the dominant hip-hop label of their era,
Def Jam, Dead Prez are signed to Loud, the label responsible for the Wu-Tang
Clan, Big Punisher, and Mobb Deep, definers of '90s intelligent hardcore
hip-hop.
The album cover, which depicts a group of teenagers bearing arms in rebellion,
has already been a source of conflict between the label and the group, and the
label has stickered the jewel case to obscure the image so that more sensitive
retailers won't be offended. Controversy is always good for sales, but unlike
some of the lesser politico-rappers of the previous nation time, Dead Prez
offer potent messages of uplift cloaked in a hard-rock sensibility. The group's
two MCs, Stic.man and M1, aren't fatherly preachers so much as partners in
(metaphoric) crime. Rather than operate outside the prevailing hip-hop
discourse, leaving their words to fall on deaf ears, the pair verse themselves
in the genre's peculiarities -- lingo, cadences, beats, expectations. With
these tools in hand, they stand the best chance of any artists in a decade to
dismantle the outmoded house hip-hop has built and construct new paths, new
structures, new narratives.
Take "Hip Hop," the album's first single -- though the title is pedestrian, the
song is anything but. The bass line is fat and thick, deeply distorted and
sustained throughout the track, penetrating the body and urging it to move.
Like a Southern bass track, it's designed to work best emanating from
tricked-out woofers designed for low-end theories. Yet rather than spit the
same ol' game as the country boys, Stic and M1 ensnare you in a truth tale that
undermines industry myths -- "Nigga don't think these record deals gonna feed
your seeds and pay your bills," Stic warns. Later in the song, the chorus
breaks into a chant of "It don't stop . . . " Then, just
before you're fooled into thinking it's the party that don't stop, the couplet
closes with the anti-authoritarian " . . . until we get the
po-po off the block." Gotcha.
Let's Get Free teems with such gems. Not only are Stic and M1 conscious,
they're gifted lyricists -- they may sound no different from your favorite
thugs, but they use that familiarity as an entry point to more profound
dialogue. Stic summarizes it nicely on "I'm a African," placing himself at the
crossroads of "camouflage fatigues and dashikis/Somewhere in between N.W.A and
PE." What other group ask you to "bounce to this socialist movement?"
Even when the pair turn to romance and other less radical concerns, they infuse
their words with wisdom and urgency. "Eat Healthy" may be Dead Prez at their
most political, even though they never refer to structures of power -- rather,
they take the opportunity to enlighten their peers on the importance of
nutritious food. "I don't eat no meat, no dairy no sweets/Only ripe vegetables,
fresh fruit and whole wheat," M1 proudly proclaims, and Stic offers his own
culinary tips: "Be careful how you season and prepare your foods/'Cause you
don't wanna lose vitamins and minerals." His dexterity with food extends to the
romance arena -- listen to the aural caresses he offers on "Mind Sex": "I know
you think I wanna fuck/No doubt/But tonight we'll try a different route/How
'bout a salad/A fresh bed of lettuce with croutons/Later we can play a game of
chess on the futon."
Not to be cynical, but those sugar-tipped lines are as strategic as the pair's
cultural politics: they dip militant prose and concepts in a candy coating of
gruff intonations and jeep-ready beats. If Dead Prez's politics were more
overt, they might well be less successful working within the structures that
have supported them. Indeed, in this second stage of subversion, the revolution
may actually be disseminated by the institution it seeks to overthrow. Greed is
good.