White America’s realization of our complicity in injustice was largely the impetus for the 20th century social programs that left the black ghetto, much like the Indian reservation, in a state of dependency. Unlike most Native American tribes, however, African Americans have yet to discover a way to turn their neighborhoods into tourist attractions. The informal economy presents high returns, but its risks are exponentially higher. Rap and basketball are not quite capitalist panaceas on the level of casinos. Moreover, they work more as an exit strategy for a few individuals than as a way to liberate the community. As 50 Cent would have us believe, they create pimps rather than Robin Hoods. In the opening track of The Massacre, he makes it clear what happens to would-be Robin Hoods in the black ghetto: “It ain’t good to do good in my hood. BLAM! You’ll know not to do good now.”
Given my lack of first-hand knowledge, I’m not really qualified to comment on such matters. White culture’s response to the ghetto is, however, a topic on which I feel qualified to comment. I’ve decided there are at least three ways for us to respond to and interact with non-dominant cultures.
First, we can keep doing what we’ve been doing for centuries. We can ignore other cultures, or denigrate them as inferior. Even in this 21st century world, many whites still choose to follow this path. Categories of “high” and “low” culture were supposed to have been torn down by the Sixties (not to mention the French Revolution), but the artificial apparatus of “discriminating taste” is still with us.
Let me give an example from my own experience. I recently attended a music-listening party with some of my fellow CDReviews.com writers. Much of the evening was spent listening to a variety of music – one of the highlights being Lil’ John’s Crunk Juice. The reception it received was unanimously negative. The general impression was that it was among the worst albums ever pressed to plastic. I didn’t disagree with that sentiment at the time, but one of the comments made while all of us pompous, pseudo-intellectual, suburban, and on the whole quite conservative white people sat around sipping wine and congratulating ourselves for being discriminatory struck me as ironic. “Rap is one style of music that I’ll just never understand.” Indeed.
There is a poignant scene in the film Closer in which “Alice” is examining a photograph of herself weeping that has been blown up and put on display in an art gallery. When someone asks her impression of the exhibit, she explains that it, like all “high art,” has been designed to reassure the haut monde and, thus, its fundamental characteristic is dishonesty.
The second approach to other cultures is to embrace them as a form of aesthetic liberation. The current embrace of pop and hip-hop by the cultural elite is merely the latest incarnation of this approach. Those of us who recognize the hollowness and subjectivity, not to say latent racism, of “discriminating taste,” often fall prey to a sort of reverse ethnocentrism. In an effort to divest ourselves of our whiteness, we insist that, to us, there is nothing foreign about hip-hop or the Negro spiritual. In the name of racial solidarity, we try our best to inhabit the world of urban decay and dwindling hopes, but with our liberal-arts degrees and trust funds, we stick out like voyeuristic tourists. It doesn’t take long to realize that the hollowness and hypocrisy for which we have indicted our parents cannot be avoided by trying to be something we’re not.
In case you’re wondering, yes, this is a CD review. Not very much needs to be said, however, about 50 Cent’s tepid sophomore effort for Interscope, The Massacre. Most of the reviews I’ve read of this album have completely ignored its obvious flaws: monotony, misogyny (of course), and 50’s cotton-mouthed mumbling. Honestly, I can’t make it all the way through this album in sequence. There are too many boring tracks that sound largely the same and are about the same thing. It’s pretty sad that the best track had to be pulled from The Game’s new CD, which wasn’t all that hot in the first place. Those reviewers who have unduly praised The Massacre have done so largely as a symptom of their commitment to the second approach of cultural engagement. My apologies to the non-whites who have somehow found this album enjoyable.
I’m an idealist, so I’d like to think there is a third way besides the conservatism of the first group and the radical self-hatred of the second. If we are going to share this planet, we’ve got to come to grips with the reality of discrimination and marginalization. However, there’s no way to wipe out 500 years of injustice, so we may as well stop trying to apologize for being white. Praising The Massacre in a glossy magazine or website that is read almost exclusively by whites is a pretty weak excuse for reparations. Let’s let African Americans be African American, recognize that we will never be black ourselves, but also realize that we can learn from other cultures and even incorporate some of their ideas into our own paradigm.
This is the approach, for example, of Philip Glass. Credited with helping to bring Eastern ideas into Western music, Glass has also collaborated with Brian Eno and David Bowie. I had the pleasure of hearing Glass speak in Buffalo, NY a couple years ago. When asked about his collaboration with these pop musicians, Glass said that he sees no distinction been art music and pop music, or high and low culture. The only musical categories that make sense to him are good music and bad music. “So what if an artist can’t read sheet music?” he continued. “Ravi Shankar couldn’t read sheet music.” Neither, I might add, can Brian Wilson, whom Leonard Bernstein named one of the greatest composers of the 20th century.
Which brings me, finally, to Eminem. Encore has been out for a while, so there’s not much point in rehashing the specifics of its contents. It’s true that Em was not exactly at the top of his game with this release. I like to think the dumbing down was intentional. Come on. Fart jokes? It’s not juvenile, it’s an absurdist satire. Ok, so it’s juvenile and absurd.
At any rate, the reason why Encore is so much better than The Massacre is that Eminem is self-aware. Any self-awareness on the part of 50 Cent is buried under miles of delusion. When Eminem raps “there’s no denying that my weenie’s much bigger than yours is,” he’s making a joke – something I wish more rappers would learn how to do. His self-aggrandizement interspersed with self-deprecation is a thinly veiled false humility. But even false humility is a refreshing contrast to constant braggadocio.
Eminem, by bringing rap to the white suburban masses, has used the Philip Glass approach to cultural exchange. On “Yellow Brick Road,” he raps about his attempts to essentially become black which, naturally, failed. The resulting feelings of being “out of place” were what allowed Eminem to develop his sharp wit and unique perspective. On Encore’s opening track he raps “Predominately white, predominately black, well what about me? Where does that leave me? Well I guess that I’m between predominately both of them.” It is, of course, his very whiteness expressed in a very black form that has resulted in America’s fascination with Eminem.
And another thing, for those of you that are still around. Encore is a political statement – explicitly in “Mosh,” but also in its entire concept. The encore performance consists of Eminem pulling out a pistol and gunning down a bunch of self-congratulatory bourgeois philanthropists. Ironically then, Eminem’s weakest album in years is also his most meaningful. Yes, both of these albums are dark and violent and offensive. Only one of them is pointless and, finally, pornographic.