How Multi-National Corporations Stifled the Voices of Rap Magazines
Some stories you have to start from the ending and work back.
A 5.11 Billion dollar energy drink company is one of the greatest references for Hip-Hop history. A clothing designer’s website is one of the top places to find Hip-Hop news. Two radio jockeys, a former lawyer, and now, new to the fray, a writer, have Internet talk shows (isn’t that what podcasts are?) where rappers go to hawk their new product. Lastly, there’s a tv show that focuses on the love relations of rap has-beens and almost-beens that’s one of the most popular shows among the vaunted 18–30 demographic. Rap is everywhere.
But as we discussed in “Video Birthed the Rap Star,” that wasn’t always the case. Luckily for the reader, I don’t have to go back to the rough and tumble days of the 70s. If there were any mention of rap back in those days, it was merely reporting music buying trends in Billboard Magazine. Our focus, as always, will be on the factors that lead to the growth and dissemination of Hip-Hop culture; in this instance — the documented word that culminated in several Hip-Hop magazines, an over-flowing abundance of Hip-Hop books, and countless websites all pulling for the attention of the starving Hip-Hop audience.
We would be remiss in our duty if we failed to point out that the ones feeding that audience are no longer the creators. Not that the first rap magazines were Black-owned, they weren’t, but they held the culture in a high regard — a regard greater than commerce. Most ventures started out as labors of love. Now, however, rap is just a slice of the pie in a revenue flowchart. Therefore, the one who controls the narrative, controls the product. But how did we get here?
Wasteland
Let me first say this — while I am very interested in giving an historical account of all things, I will always go about doing so from a personal standpoint; meaning I won’t give first hand accounts of reading the first Sally Banes, Village Voice article on Rock Steady or tell you about being blown away by Mike Holman’s East Village Eye coverage of Afrika Bambaataa. I’ve only learned these things through research and as a result, they have been late discoveries…A HA! moments if you will.
My year one as a bonafide B-boy was 1984. I was starting middle school at Northern Burlington High and it was the first year that fashion mattered to me. I was always a curious child, loved to read. Would pick up whatever Ebony or Popular Science magazine there was laying around the house.
As Hip-Hop became more my culture, I would look for articles on whoever the popular artist were — like Run DMC. They were huge in Hip-Hop — the most known group at the time, so surely I could open up Jet magazine, turn to the back and see “30 Days” listed among the top singles. Nope. Fine. Beat Street was a big movie that summer, breaking was being shown on television everywhere — there was even breaking in the ’84 Los Angeles Summer Olympics Closing Ceremony — of course Ebony would have a section somewhere about the phenomenon of breakdancing. Nunca.
If it wasn’t for Power 99 and Lady B’s Street Beat, we would have no idea of what was going on in the Hip-Hop world. That’s how we knew of the Swatch Fresh Festival — a really big deal by the way — but there was no mention of it in any Black publications that circulated in our household. No mention of it on the news. I can tell you the first time I saw something dealing with Hip-Hop in a way that I could identify with — Summer of 1985.
I don’t know the circumstances. Not even going to try to conjure up a memory. But I do know that that June 1985 Right On! Focus cover with Run DMC in those sheepskins…(I did say it was June, right — editorial didn’t care obviously), Whodini, Force MDs, and the Fat Boys was something that I stared at and studied. Right On!, a magazine started by Judy Weider, had it’s origins in being a kiddie bop fan rag for the Jackson 5 — and it’s content reflected the intended audience. The content for the June 85 issue could not have been filled with that much depth either because I don’t even think a groove was etched in my brain to remember it. But that cover, I can never forget that cover, even though we were still starved for substance. It would be a year before my older brother, while thumbing through the school library, stumbled on what would become our holy grail: Steven Hager’s Illustrated History of Break Dancing, Rapping, and Graffiti.
Although we briefly mentioned Hager’s book in “The Devil Killed New York Rap”, we didn’t give it the due that it really deserves. Steven Hager now is more known as the former editor of High Times and a cannabis activist but in the early 80s he was among a group (Martha Cooper, Henry Chalfant, & Charlie Ahearn were some of the others) of mainly white artists and journalists documenting the developing subculture that would become known as Hip-Hop.
Hager is often credited as the first to document Afrika Bambaataa which he did in a 1981 Village Voice article. After the breaking explosion of ‘83, the market became flooded with breaking books, mostly how-to, opportunistic, crap books — my favorite being “Breakdancing: Mr Fresh and The Supreme Rockers Show You How to Do It!” (what a great title, right?) But we looked at them all…with a bit of trepidation.
There was no need for that with the “Illustrated History of Break Dancing, Rapping, and Graffiti.” This book walks you through the pre-Hip-Hop days and explains the affects of the infamous Robert Moses’ highways on the Bronx. Hager then skillfully leads us through the gang-era and how it developed into early Hip-Hop. Each chapter alternates between DJing, Rapping (until they become intertwined), graffiti, and breakdancing.
My older brother kept it checked out for as long as humanly possible, and when I entered the same high school, between the two of us, we kept the book all year — maybe that’s an exaggeration — but this is Hip-Hop. Unfortunately, the book was way ahead of it’s time and soon went out of print making it that much more difficult to find. (Once, in college, I found it in an off-the-beaten path Atlanta library and attempted to photocopy the entire book).
It was the first time that I read anything that treated the culture with dignity and respect. That was good and bad. It was good because we learned more about the culture than most people ever cared to but bad…really bad because after drinking from that book to the point of memorization, nothing could fill that void. Next time I saw a Word Up! with LL on the cover, I appreciated it for the visuals but the words were empty. I needed more. The starvation continued.
An Oasis in the Desert
Two years seems like nothing now, but to a teenager that is a lifetime and between ‘86–’88 — despite the shift of Hip-Hop going from underground to mainstream, there was still very little coverage dealing with the phenomenon. Yeah, sure Spin Magazine may have had some articles tucked away in their issues — their first issue in March 1985 had a feature on Run DMC where the editor & chief Edward Rasen noted Hip-Hop’s “inexorable invasion of middle America.” They even had covers with Run DMC and the Beastie Boys. But by then, I didn’t care about either of them.
I did care about Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince though and they were on the cover of the October 1988 issue. The title article joins DJ Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince on the Run’s House tour and anoints Fresh Prince the next big thing. We all enjoyed the Philadelphia rap group, but didn’t know about all that next big thing mess. I do know when I read “Parent’s Don’t Understand” was the best track on ‘Rock the House,’ I had to close the magazine and look to see who the hell wrote the article. (J. Allen Levy)
To me, this was what was wrong with outsiders reporting on Hip-Hop — I don’t know ANYONE who listened to that song. Come on, “The Magnificent Jazzy Jeff” was on there, you know, the one where Jeff introduced the masses to the transform scratch. The title track featuring Ready Rock C driving the crowd crazy by doing “Sanford and Son” theme…underwater — or making it sound like it — he’s a beatbox not a magician. “Just Rockin’” is on there; the now forgotten trend of the DJ mixing track, “Taste of Jazz” was on this debut album as well. So Mr. Levy almost ruined it for the whole magazine. But I continued on.
There’s a quick excerpt (but powerful picture) on Big Daddy Kane’s ‘Cameo haircut’ where he gives credit to Larry Blackmon of Cameo for having the hairstyle first but concludes with, “I don’t see where it really matters who had it first, Carl Lewis or Grace Jones. Neither of them looks as good with it as me.”
There’s a short article on Hip Hop fashion with a pic of Flavor Flav, draped in what appears to be a Dapper Dan constructed Troop suit. My first time seeing Bonz Malone’s name appears in this magazine with a little intro to the slang of “Shooting the Giph.” There’s a few stupid things like Hip-Hop movies and stuff like that, that I still haven’t paid attention to. The last article that I can remember reading that really opened my mind was a discussion between Fab Five Freddy and Max Roach on the significance of Hip-Hop. Not that I knew who Roach was at the time, just that he was an older, experienced, well-known jazz artist speaking about Hip-Hop in the same vein as the well-respected genre that he made his name in. It wasn’t enough to make me seek out Spin magazine on a monthly basis, but this issue did show me that Hip-Hop could be covered in more ways than the one sheet, teenie bop method that Right On! Fresh, and Word Up! were known for.
Worlds Collide
My interests shifted for a few years and Hip-Hop took a back seat to Islam. And this is how I first came to know The Source magazine. The March 1990 Source with Malcolm X on the cover was coveted no doubt, but it was the Islamic Summit issue of March/April 1991 with Paris, Big Daddy Kane, and Lakim Shabazz on the cover that peaked my interest. The magazine, however, wasn’t easy to find.
Either 1992 was the break out year for Ed Young (one of The Source Magazines’ four founders) on landing distribution deals or I was just older, wiser and more astute at finding the self-proclaimed “rap bible.” I landed the April 1992, KRS One featured Source, missed the May issue with X-Clan, but after that, from June 1992 up until January 1997, I never missed an issue — sixty irritating magazines to anyone who had to suffer through them decorating our home. But to me — The Source contained invaluable information; it offered context. Where once the views on Hip-Hop were from an outsider (see: above, regarding ‘Rock the House), The Source provided a fans’ perspective. Perhaps one of the most debated perspectives of the magazine was the album review and its rating system.
The Record Review Squad, first led by Matty C grew to add eight others: Atco, Big B, Greg C, J-Mill, Reef, Ronin Ro (my personal favorite), J The Sultan, & Cee Wild (in it’s 1991–2 incarnation). It had to be one of the toughest departments to work in — your rating could determine a groups’ career. The rating system initially started out with bombs (instead of stars) and eventually developed into the highly sought after Mics — one being, “totally wack,” five being the greatest, “a Hip-Hop Classic.” “How many mics did it get” became a common question. To this day, people from that era remember which albums received the vaunted honor of having Five Mics.
Aside from the debated (but greatly appreciated) album reviews, The Source had other monthly installments that were a ‘must see’. Being a former writer, the first place I turned to was the Tramp produced comic, “A View From Da Underground.” If I was half as talented with art, I may have tried to do the same with my characters. “Underground” was the adventures of Shaheed, Uneek, P-Nut, and friends as they went to clubs, hung out, got up, etc — an illustrated version of our lives. …not that I even read it (hey, I have to be honest) but I studied the drawings. It was like a piece made into a comic.
Not only did The Source cover rap, it had a segment on graffiti, Graf Flix, ran by Chino BYI — with pieces ranging from old school subway cars to modern freights; from pieces in the U.S. to works done all over the world. There were articles dedicated to the burgeoning street wear industry — clothing that was inspired by skating and Hip-Hop that began taking a hold around 1992. Of course, doing that helped increase advertising dollars and I’m sure when companies saw the uptick in sells they paid closer attention. Then there was Unsigned Hype. Every aspiring rapper saw themselves ascend from Unsigned Hype to the other popular segment — the Hip Hop Quotable; two other segments that set separated The Source from it’s predecessors.
Most importantly, The Source was a well-written, well-put together magazine with quality photos, paper and topics. From the first article I read on KRS One (written by John Shecter), I recognized that I was finally dealing with a voice that treated Hip-Hop how I saw it — an art — and they let the artist, in this case, KRS, speak (this is the issue where he was feeling himself after ejecting PM Dawn and was talking about rolling on everyone from X-Clan to PRT).
The names of contributors became important to me for the first time. Writers like dream hampton, Keirna Mayo, Ronin Ro, Bonz Malone, Reginald Dennis, and the list goes on, became names that I would check for upon opening each new issue. The Source Mind Squad was a diverse group and that diversity broadened not only my view of Hip-Hop, but also my view of the world. And the stand-out photographer, the one that inspired me to pick up a camera, the gentleman who took most of the iconic photos that people are familiar with from the mid to late ‘90s, Chi Modu, was our own Baron Wolman.
There were so many memorable issues those first few years of collecting The Source. The first being Issue #40, a retrospective of the year 1992 which most memorably featured the section of the emerging street wear genre. That translates to articles on Cross Colours and Karl Kani, of course. But also answered our questions as to who were putting out those Philly Blunt Ts or who made those HBCU sweatshirts that were found on every rapper.
There was Issue #50, the True School issue with Grandmaster Flash, Afrika Bambaataa, and DJ Kool Herc — that’s pretty self explanatory. You know why that was awesome.
People maligned Issue #54, the Luke issue — but I always felt it was an in depth look at the growing influence of bass; a step towards covering regions outside of LA and NY — where, incidentally, most rap fans lived.
The issue that I looked at the most, the one I read over and over was the next issue, Issue #55, The Gangstarr issue. The six page cover story was phenomenal but the true heads remember this is as the Oral History of the Making of Illmatic issue. There are many others, but you get the point. No one was messing with The Source. It was the Spring of ‘94.
There were other rap magazines. Rap Pages, started by Hustler persona Larry Flynt, in October of 1991, being one. I may have flipped through the pages every once in awhile, there were some decent articles — I can recall a 1994 Pete Rock & CL Smooth article and a Nas article — but not much else. There was Rap Sheet -which debuted in 1992 — the brainchild of Darryl James who had previously had a rap magazine in college and Jeff Stern of Details fame. It was really a newspaper. Eventually it became a magazine. I bought maybe one issue. There was Egotrip and Stress and so on and so forth. The only real competition was a magazine that was a quick pet project of Quincy Jones — The Vibe.
They had me. From the Albert Watson b/w cover of Treach (I was going through my own b/w phase) to the longform articles, they had me. But then it was some months before the real debut, with the Dan Winters photographed Snoop Dogg cover. With articles on Rock Steady, a story on the women of dancehall, the Kevin Powell written Snoop Dogg feature, and…gasp, an article on street skating, not to mention most of the world’s intro to a one Sean Puffy Combs — as you can see — it was a full issue. Vibe had arrived. And it wasn’t The Source. It was something else.
When I say — ”something else” — I mean — it wasn’t competition. Despite covering some Hip-Hop artists or topics, for all intents and purpose, The Vibe was more of a….hmmm…for lack of better words, an R&B magazine. An excellent R&B magazine — but an R&B magazine nonetheless. If there was any competition for The Source Magazine it was The Source Magazine.
Things Fall Apart
It’s probably the most written of mutiny in magazine history (if there were such a thing) and really, I won’t go into great detail about it just yet. I think one can find that story told in it’s entirety in a number of places. And while it’s a oft-repeated story, I took it personal.
For the record, I didn’t know who the Almighty RSO was. I saw them pop up here and there (in the Source) but I had never heard any of their songs nor had I ever seen any of their videos. They were a non-entity to me. Because of that, I didn’t understand how they garnered a two page feature or how it escalated into The Conflict of the Fall of 1994.
It was like watching parents divorce. What was supposed to be a coup and an ouster of David Mays instead lead to the departure of several founding members. I wasn’t alone in thinking that such a great departure would spell the end. But it didn’t. A few years later, however, the outcast would return to put the death nail into the once invincible magazine, but we’ll get to that.
Things definitely changed. I became less involved in rap in general. Albums like Puff Daddy and the Family’s ‘No Way Out’ were popping. I still bought The Source, more so out of habit, but I didn’t care to read about most of the albums that were being released. Videos were becoming flashy mini movies. The multi-platinum era was just getting underway and it became evident that the rap fan could be a good cash cow. It was with that spirit that Harris Publications bought the Don Morris idea of yet another Hip-Hop mag, this one would be titled XXL and it debuted in 1997 with, if you ask me, the prophetic changing of the guard cover of Jay Z, and two former Source staff, James Bernard & Reginald Dennis.
By 1998 The Source had surpassed even the venerable Rolling Stone — the godfather of all music magazines — in circulation. None of their rivals could compete, and, after seven years, Rap Pages was shuttered. The Source and Hip-Hop culture appeared to be more than some passing fad…it even transcended being a movement. The culture had now become an institution. Magazines like Blaze, The Fader, and Wax Poetics emerged and one can’t see how, in the late ’90s and early ’00s it could ever come to an end.
Waning Interest
Looking at those Source covers from the early 2000s reminds me that the majority of the times that I listened to rap music during this era was when I listened to Hot 97 or on a road trip. To many people that’s sacrilege. How could I not be into DMX and Rough Ryders? Surely I had to have at least one Murder Inc. CD? Nope. Em? No.
Common’s “Like Water For Chocolate,” Slum Village’s “Fantastic Vol. 2,” Outkast’s “Stankonia,” De La’s “Art Official” jawns, and “Illyaas2001”…..and maybe a Busta album slipped in there…that’s the most I can come with off the top of my head, as far as Hip Hop albums go. Oh, Kardinal Offishall’s “Quest For Fire.” If any of those artist were being covered in one of the Hip-Hop mags, I couldn’t tell you. It appeared to me that magazines had become slaves to advertising with issues as thick as Vogue’s Fall issue, 300 plus pages, mostly ads, and the articles suffered.
But that’s what pays the bills.
So my interest went elsewhere. I read Brit magazines like The Face or the Claude Grunitzky (a brother, seriously — he’s from Togo) produced Trace (which first got my attention with their annual Black Girls Rule issue). I became immersed in Jungle & Drum N Bass. To me, their scene embodied what Hip-Hop once was. I would walk to the East Village’s Breakbeat Science and pick up live mix cassettes…yes, cassettes and it would be 90 minutes of someone like Skibadee rhyming over various dubs. That interest led into Garage, Garage into 2 Step, 2 Step into Grime. I was good on Hip-Hop. But then my brother pulled me back in.
Things Fall Apart
“I don’t think Dave is a happy man. His friendship with Ray has cost him dearly in all aspects of his life. And while he tries his best to project a veneer of steely calm and unwavering capability, those who know him and have seem him in his quiet moments will tell you a different story.” Reginald Dennis, Rap Research Archive
Reading Reginald C Dennis’ account of the first fissure in The Source camp really resonated with me. Before, I mentioned how watching the split was like being a child witnessing the divorce of their parents, well, in 2004 I was able to see some of this unraveling first hand.
My story involves my brother, but I will leave him out of it, and thus leave out how I ended up in The Source offices in the first place. Anyone familiar with the proceedings will be able to fact check what I’m speaking of.
As I mentioned above, I was through with most rap. I certainly didn’t look to any rap magazines anymore for who or what was important in the genre. But there I was, discussing with Dave Mays and Benzino the ramifications of their battle with XXL.
And let’s be clear. Right now, critics and historians alike look back at the supposed war that The Source had on XXL as something ludicrous or crazy, but time will be the best judge of that. What can be said, and was said by many observant fan, XXL had a special relationship with Interscope artists and to criticize an Interscope artist could and often did lead to Interscope pulling their advertisement dollars from whoever crossed that line. Again, one can fact check it — it’s documented.
XXL was able to pivot better and make it seem as if The Source had some unrequited disdain for Eminem who had no problem with The Source at all. And the reason they were able to succeed in that is the messenger — Benzino.
Had the message come from anyone else, perhaps it would have at least been entertained. But because it came from Ray Benzino, it was easy to look at his track record and assume it was just another way of garnering press. And to be honest, he was too closely tied with the magazine. There were no clear boundaries.
He laid out his case on the ill-received documentary of his life, Arch Nemesis which, if I remember correctly, was released in conjunction with some new music he was dropping. Nobody cared.
The press convoluted the message of a shrinking world where only a few multi-national conglomerates — in this case Universal/Interscope — dominated the media and, instead of this critique being used as a call to arms, it was used as eulogy for The Source.
I began this section with the Reginald C. Dennis quote because in my interactions with Dave Mays those words rang true. He seemed tired. He pepped up when my brother and I talked about what The Source meant to us, but overall he seemed like a man who could not see himself clear of the mess that he allowed to build up in his house.
Some people, naive as they are, mark this as a win for XXL but let’s fast-forward some years and see if that’s really the case.
A few weeks ago I walked into one of the few remaining freestanding Barnes & Nobles and looked for The Source and XXL. It wasn’t easy. Three Rolling Stones magazines dominated the shelf which was in competition with The Fader’s Drake/Rihanna covered 100 issue anniversary tome. But I did find them — tucked away in the back. And what a sight.
Both of them were so flimsy, they could have been tabloids. (The Gun-centric magazine, Recoil, on the other hand, was nice, and thick with high grade paper, but I digress) I know that people still have some regard for XXL because of the annual Freshman Issue but that might be the only issue that anyone ever picks up. The Source — I don’t even know why they exists. No one checks that magazine for anything. And their online presence isn’t any better it’s mostly gossip and rehashed stories from tweets or Instagram.
None of it matters anyway.
The “recession” of 2009 wiped the slate clean not just of rap but many magazines. (The Face and Trace that I mentioned above were victims of that massacre) Advertising dollars went elsewhere and magazines lost their greatest source of income. Not to mention, most people balk at the idea of paying six dollars for a magazine that will likely only have one article in there that they want to read.
The rap critic in general and Hip-Hop magazines in particular once served as the voice of the people. When no one would cover the music, these magazines filled the need. But they got too big for their britches — not for the fan. The fact that people still do turn to XXL magazine for the Freshman Issue shows that fans still look to media for a voice or an authoritative opinion on the ever-changing environment that is rap. They got too big for the record labels because once the critic had the ability to crush a career in one review, that began to affect the bottomline of companies already struggling to break even.
What passes for criticism now is nothing more than snark. Quick, fast assessments of an album probably based on first impressions. Some blame the Internet. They say because everything moves so quickly now that they are “forced” to turn in copy almost as soon as the album or song leaks (which is mostly the case now). But take a step back. Look at what’s championed and ask yourself — who benefits for its success? This isn’t conspiracy talk. This is real talk.
I’ll leave you with this November 12, 2015 quote from 9th Wonder’s Instagram — a post he put up in response to Mosi Reeves’ “review” of. the just released 9th Wonder/Talib Kweli collaboration, “Indie 500.”
“Classic Pitchfork. At least do the knowledge on who produced what…and who lectured where…..I will take a rating of. 0.5 if the information about the production, etc was correct…..give @khrysis_ his just do…….Music Journalism should be a privilege and a responsibility, not a hobby.”
Khrysis produced three tracks , “Lo Fi,” “Technicolor Easels,” & “Understand,” the album is fire, and as you may or may not know, the album is an independent release. Who benefits?
I want to thank writers like Nelson George, Greg Tate, Harry Allen, and many others, who continued to cover Hip-Hop when there was no real outlet for it. I can only imagine the struggle that they had to go through to get each article published amidst the doubt that rap would even last. It’s on their shoulders that all rap magazines and rap critics stand.
