Few things irk me more than the glut of critics self-righteously spitting at all things indie rap, while championing OJ Da Juice Man as the savior–as though there weren’t reams of photo negatives of them rocking backwards fitteds and Jansports. Conversely, nothing seems more trite than dudes championing “that real hip-hop,” while sneering at anyone with a recording budget bigger than one month’s rent.
It’s hard for me to critique the Paid Dues Festival. I’ve got boundless respect for both Murs and Guerilla Union: their contributions to hip-hop, their tireless work at preserving the culture, and the music/shows they’ve been a part of. Both Murs, Brother Ali, et. al, love and appreciate their fiercely loyal fan-bases, something clearly evident during the marathon autograph-signing sessions they put in following their sets.
That said–attending Paid Dues felt like I was trapped in an alternate ’99. I obviously enjoyed several performances. Slaughterhouse were phenomenal, and Ali and Atmosphere are always reliable, if not overly familiar. B-Real played “I Want To Get High” and “Hand on the Pump,” which was cool. But equally often, things veered into maudlin nostalgia and rote cliche. Giving out Paid Dues backpacks to VIP’s? $10 beers, $40 tickets, and $15 to park, at a festival ostensibly intended to be a paean to the independent spirit? Really?
William F. Buckley: About that “Real Hip-Hop”
As an inherently reactionary art form, backpack rap was regressive from the get-go. After 10+ years of railing against what Ali called, “the corporate shit they stick down your throat,” when does that complaint become stale? When does it become more important to offer new alternatives than to critique existing options–however dismal they may seem. Preserving hip-hop culture is wonderful and important, but at what point does the definition of “real hip-hop” seem narrow and antiquated. Some geographic diversity, and a greater role for the next generation would’ve been welcomed.
Hell, why not add rap-friendly rockers like Black Lips, Islands, Dungen, or even Wavves. You’ll mutually expose your fanbases to new acts and ideas, and it could make for interesting collabos. When your festival is 87 percent male, that’s not a good sign. The days of the “rap exclusivist” are numbered. Like it or not, rap is pop–nobody’s parents forbid them from listening to Kanye or Wayne. Holding the four elements sacred doesn’t have to mean slavish attempts to re-create dead days.
Of course, not all the groups, nor all the fans at Paid Dues fit that definition, but for such a purportedly progressive circle, there were tangible parallels between the current state of the indieground and William F. Buckley’s definition of a conservative: someone standing athwart history, and yelling, “Stop!” Independent and intelligent hip-hop will always have a major role in a genre that often places commerce over craft. But hip-hop is inherently a post-modern and protean beast. The definition of hip-hop in ’09 can’t be stuck in ’99, wishing it was in ’89. The foundation isn’t cracked, but the exterior is in bad need of a renovation.
LA Times: Paid Dues Indie Hip-Hop Festival
Download:
MP3: Slaughterhouse-“Slaughterhouse” (Left-Click)
MP3: Slaughterhouse-“Fight Club”
