Hello good people. This is the first addition to the Thoughtz from tha veteran blog. I can think of no topic that has more need of exploration than the one I present to you now. You see I am 40 years old and a proud member of that era’s hip hop generation. That is the problem so to speak, that era’s hip hop generation is older now. Older, but not out of the game. I am here to join us all together and provide if nothing else, a place to voice our confusion? denial? love? nostalgic rememberences? of the good old dayz as well as a forum for us to figure out how to exist in this era’s generation with our new realities and responsibilities.
Some may be thinking, “what’s the problem? I have all of my old school jointz and I play them in the car or when the kids are sleep” or some other closeted form of enjoying what you once lived for. I am saying that for me and I am sure many others..that itself is the problem. I bought my ex wife two tickets to the “men of soul” concert for her birthday the other day. The men of soul concert is where I, as a grown up, should be gettin my salt and pepper shimmy on. That I can think of no other evening that would appeal to me less causes me some inner discomfort. And the worst part is that it has nothing to do with the artist per se. Jeffery Osbourne, Howard Hewitt, Freddie Jackson, and Peabo Bryson are all talented, accomplished artist that I respect and admire. The problem is they are not the primary soundtrack of my youth. They were on the fringe. And I did not live for the fringe..I lived for the core. That core still drives me today. I love shell toes. I love puma’s. I love sweat suits. I like suits. I like dress shoes. I love hip hop. I like the “men of soul”.
How does a non teen or twenty something year old male pick up a date rocking the new E-40 album? Or god forbid, The Clipse-which is in constant play in my car? You must admit it says a lot. I like what it says because that’s who I’ve always been but I do recognize the ability to polarize or even ostracize that is in lockstep with those music choices as a divorced father with kidz. In 50’s new book with Robert Greene “The 50th Law”he states, “the biggest fear people have is the fear of being themselves” I believe that is a true statement. And I try to stay on guard to make sure I’m not doing what I’m supposed to be doing per societal rules…to a degree. I mean we must have the basics in place: shelter-check, transportation-check, employment-check, vices either gone with the passage of youth or non self destructing-check, car insurance-check, you get the idea. But after that, those of us who grew up listening to Run Dmc in the era of Run Dmc should not have to file those away and proclaim we listen to Rev Run with the same fire in the belly appreciation.
Now, I’m not stating that we need to disregard the age old wisdom of “a time and a place” for everything. I just want to know when is the time? Where is our place? I do not want to be nostalgic. That to me is the kiss of death. Conversely, the thought of going to a gang infested super hip hop concert today is far from appealing. Yes, I just made a very large and broad and possibly foul generalized concert statement as pertains to “super” hip-hop concerts. But, to be clear, I know of what I speak. I attended a Mack 10, E-40, Ice Cube concert many moons ago and a couple of things happened. Number 1, I was blown away by Cubes ability to recite all of his verses and run around the stage end to end for his entire performance. As a retired MC myself I can appreciate what it takes to get that done. Number 2, E-40 was and is one of the most underrated rappers in the game. Number 3, I knew someone was gonna get knocked the fuck out! I was there with my latin homeboy and a white girl from South Africa that I was trying to personally end apartheid with. The gang count was thru tha roof. I didn’t give a shit. I grew up on 33rd and Market street in Southeast San Diego. Didn’t faze me in tha least. I knew how to navigate that environment. And if I’m honest here, the element of just under the surface possible danger made the beats bang harder.The rhymes crisper. The night was alive and undetermined. Anything could happen. Everything could happen. That’s why we went, no?
But my friends that was four apartments, many jobs, one marriage, one divorce, three kids and a lost mortgage ago. I’m not a child. I like to see people get knocked tha fuck out now on pay per view. But I still love that music. I still get a physical reaction to the music. I played “Rebel without a Pause” in my house the other day and for three minutes I lost my mind. I was inside of that music. I didn’t even really know what to do with myself. Other than rapping along…loudly. Jumping up and down searching for a way to express the perfection of that song. I’m not giving that up for the “Men of Soul” tour just because the latter is age appropriate! In the wordz of Whitney..”hell to the no”. So where does that leave me/us? That is the question maybe one of you can answer. What the hell do we do? and Where tha hell do we do it?
Until next time peace,
DamnUniqueThaVeteran
Thoughtz from Tha Veteran 
That was really dope lord.
I’ve got a garage, two turntables (right by the water heater!) that are ready “for the real hip hop”.
I largely stopped listening to hip-hop in the early nineties. I felt that it was no longer speaking to me, as a maturing young man with aspirations other than poppin bottles of champagne at the club and driving cars with rims that gleam as I pull into my mom’s driveway. I was always interested in the more conscious hip-hop, the “Black CNN” that Chuck D spoke of with Larry King on CNN.
What seemed to happen at that time was, instead of Chuck legitimizing the art form, and giving credence to it’s artistic and documentary value, the music industry came to recognize the potential monetary value of the movement, and everything we should have been afraid of, as fans, happened right before our eyes. White America was exposed to hip-hop early on, in a voyeuristic sense. It allowed people in Idaho to be entertained by tales of drive by shootings in South Central LA without having to worry what color they were wearing. They could live vicariously through the words of rappers in the Boogie Down spitting rhymes about drug deals gone bad and cop chases, and never worry about which downtown express train they just missed. The commodification and glorification of these aspects of hip-hop created a market that took it out of the hood and brought it to the world. Record companies were less concerned with the images they promoted, and more concerned with how many units shipped. The result was the advancing onslaught of “gangsta rap” (which actually existed for at least a decade before Chuck D’s appearance on CNN. The supposed fear it created, and the hyped up reports of violence at concerts, and music influenced crime sprees, and politicians wives leading “parental advisory” campaigns ultimately created so much demand for the music (in the form of CDs, at the time) the monster was created.
I write all of this to suggest that, at that moment, when the industry eschewed every other form of hip-hop for gangsta rap, was the moment it was all lost, and that was the moment that a pure art form, one which reflected the multitude of styles, regionally and otherwise, was no longer under the control of its creators. It became dictated by people that had nothing to do with it’s origin, and it’s longevity wasn’t their concern, either. This premise underlies this writer’s belief that the industry itself created the conundrum we as “middle-aged” listeners find ourselves in. While we grew up, the art form was stunted in it’s growth. Perhaps in it’s most fertile and creative period, the buds were clipped. While our tastes matured, while our body of worldly knowledge increased, while our girlfriends became our wives and wanted us to take them out to party, there was no hip-hop to dance to, or contemplate. There were very few artists with more than three albums in their catalog – no such thing as a credible “greatest hits” package. Whereas, in the past, labels could support an artist through formative years, building a catalog and a signature sound, that was never the intention for hip-hop. It didn’t have to be, because the marketing demographic was 16-25. Everyone else’s opinion didn’t matter (which is truly absurd, because most of the rappers, themselves, were well over 25).
So, if the opinions of those over 25 didn’t count, and the music was created to feed the appetites of kids that didn’t live anywhere near the reportage Chuck spoke about, fast forward fifteen years, and how can one expect for there to be a place for us?
In closing, I’ll mention that two summers ago, I was fortunate enough to attend the 2nd annual Roots Picnic in Philadelphia. Amongst the performances (and perhaps the best hip-hop performance this writer has ever seen) was a reunited Public Enemy performing the “It Takes A Nation Of Millions…” album with The Roots as their backing band. It was as exhilarating as it was bewildering. I say bewildering because, in my opinion, this was an assemblage of two of the best rap groups ever, and it seemed a totally natural pairing. The type of thing that could happen year in, and year out if we were speaking of classic rock acts, or even country music artists. Those two genres, in particular, support the development of it’s artists, and then support them in their later performance and recording years through consistent and repeated radio play, introducing them to new fans, as well as keeping the older fans interested. This happens nowhere in hip-hop, not even in NY, where Hot 97’s classics playlist doesn’t seem to extend before 1993. There is no foundation in place for longevity in the art form. So, unless groups like The Roots continue to pull together performances like the aforementioned, reunion tours and classic showcases will be always be joke and a novelty. Where The Roots and Public Enemy could be The Four Tops and The Temptations for our generation, and we could fondly reminisce on our youth and introduce the classics to the next generations (as our parents did). Instead, we’ve got Soulja Boy in the Top 10, again.
woke up this morning, and after reading that….I pulled my speakers off the
shelves, put in my window pointing twords the street, put in the first SCARFACE
Album…AND BLASTED THAT SHIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! WORD>>> AND IM 40!!!
Then my girl came in and said “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING”, and I said…
WOMAN!, THA VET JUST PUT ME ON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Imma tell my kids that story…with a bunch of others…..rock what you feel till you die….