Listen Here: Vol. 1.0
by Ronnie Reese
Listen Here should have jumped off a long time ago, but I’ve been sick-and lazy. It’s not so much about me, however, as it is about Ground Lift magazine. When discussing the idea of a column with my editor, the venerable DJ Trew, I had no idea what I planned to do. All I knew was that I wanted my own forum to speak on whatever and get paid for it.
Yes, writers are on the hustle, too-every one of us. Most artists don’t make any money off of hip-hop music, and neither do hip-hop journalists. The real income comes from the impact of the industry at-large, where we all tend to find ourselves asking not what we can do for the game, but what the game can do for us. Selfish? Yes. Necessary? Hell yes.
The challenge in taking Listen Here from concept to actuality came in finding an approach that wasn’t clichéd, gimmicky, played out, over the top, corny, contradictory, or hypocritical. The whole Black music thing-which is really what I’ll be talking about here-is pretty congested right now, and while we’re all eating, many of us are stuck on the same daily specials. Start ordering off of the menu. When the D.O.C. said, "Originality is a must whenever I bust," folks should have been listening.
In addition to coming with something new, I wanted the ability to talk about anything, and by anything, I mean anything. Should Listen Here actually take wings and fly, I’ll hit you with all kinds of delectable, mouth-watering flavors-the angelic innocence of a young Denise Huxtable, Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice, why the Roots’ Black Thought is the most underrated emcee in hip-hop, how the iPod is killing LP cover art, my Aunt Katherine’s record collection, Buddy Miles, the days when hip-hop crews had dancers, James Brown’s PCP use, or why Off the Wall and not Thriller is truly Michael’s best. Nothing is sacred-nor should it be.
I also make time for Eddie Harris. With a joint called Listen Here, I kind of have to. That would make the most sense, but I won’t always do that, either. Sense? Hip-Hop? The two are completely unrelated.
The only catch is that all has to be Ground Lift. That’s what keeps me from writing a 3,000-word wet dream about rebel Cosby kid Lisa Bonet. It’s also what keeps your boy grounded, for the sake of both this column and my place within the culture. Whatever the topic, it has to come back to what we at GL represent-rare groove, hip-hop, and beats. No matter how chopped and screwed things get, or how much of an impact is made in Tinseltown and on Wall Street, or how much we poor coloreds have finally overcome, we’ll always have the music. Rare groove is the O.G., hip-hop is the heart, and the beats are what tie it all together. It’s elementary, son.
Let me take a minute and send some love out to the memories of Proof and Jay Dee a.k.a. Jay Dilla. Detroit is hurting right now, and it’s not like the D was a city that deserved any more hurt. Be grateful for this rap shit. Be grateful for what you consider hot, and be grateful for what you consider wack. For a culture that’s built on machismo and being the best at your craft, a lot of male hip-hop artists are comically untalented sissies, who in all their haste to "keep it real," come off like a bickering sorority clique. Be grateful for them, too. We all have our place.
Me? I’m just a regular cat, but I do make part of my living doing this, which makes me a professional. It also makes Listen Here different from your typical blog-besides the fact that mediocre scribes are getting over doing something I spent seven years in college learning. I’ll actually put work into these pieces. Respect to the progressive and dedicated bloggers for doing their thing and doing just that. Keep it up, because I’m biting your shit left and right.
See, it’s okay to steal from the best. That’s what makes Listen Here and Ground Lift magazine a lot like the rest. That originality I spoke of earlier is at an all-time low. We’re not splitting the atom here, but we are keeping it gangster in our own way, and trying to flip the ill shit the best way we know how. I was initially going to jack Funkadelic for the title of this column and call it "May I Frighten You?" I figured we were all tired of running scared. I hope you find Listen Here a bit more accommodating.
Listen Here should have jumped off a long time ago, but I’ve been sick-and lazy. It’s not so much about me, however, as it is about Ground Lift magazine. When discussing the idea of a column with my editor, the venerable DJ Trew, I had no idea what I planned to do. All I knew was that I wanted my own forum to speak on whatever and get paid for it.
Yes, writers are on the hustle, too-every one of us. Most artists don’t make any money off of hip-hop music, and neither do hip-hop journalists. The real income comes from the impact of the industry at-large, where we all tend to find ourselves asking not what we can do for the game, but what the game can do for us. Selfish? Yes. Necessary? Hell yes.
The challenge in taking Listen Here from concept to actuality came in finding an approach that wasn’t clichéd, gimmicky, played out, over the top, corny, contradictory, or hypocritical. The whole Black music thing-which is really what I’ll be talking about here-is pretty congested right now, and while we’re all eating, many of us are stuck on the same daily specials. Start ordering off of the menu. When the D.O.C. said, "Originality is a must whenever I bust," folks should have been listening.
In addition to coming with something new, I wanted the ability to talk about anything, and by anything, I mean anything. Should Listen Here actually take wings and fly, I’ll hit you with all kinds of delectable, mouth-watering flavors-the angelic innocence of a young Denise Huxtable, Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice, why the Roots’ Black Thought is the most underrated emcee in hip-hop, how the iPod is killing LP cover art, my Aunt Katherine’s record collection, Buddy Miles, the days when hip-hop crews had dancers, James Brown’s PCP use, or why Off the Wall and not Thriller is truly Michael’s best. Nothing is sacred-nor should it be. I also make time for Eddie Harris. With a joint called Listen Here, I kind of have to. That would make the most sense, but I won’t always do that, either. Sense? Hip-Hop? The two are completely unrelated.
The only catch is that all has to be Ground Lift. That’s what keeps me from writing a 3,000-word wet dream about rebel Cosby kid Lisa Bonet. It’s also what keeps your boy grounded, for the sake of both this column and my place within the culture. Whatever the topic, it has to come back to what we at GL represent-rare groove, hip-hop, and beats. No matter how chopped and screwed things get, or how much of an impact is made in Tinseltown and on Wall Street, or how much we poor coloreds have finally overcome, we’ll always have the music. Rare groove is the O.G., hip-hop is the heart, and the beats are what tie it all together. It’s elementary, son.
Let me take a minute and send some love out to the memories of Proof and Jay Dee a.k.a. Jay Dilla. Detroit is hurting right now, and it’s not like the D was a city that deserved any more hurt. Be grateful for this rap shit. Be grateful for what you consider hot, and be grateful for what you consider wack. For a culture that’s built on machismo and being the best at your craft, a lot of male hip-hop artists are comically untalented sissies, who in all their haste to "keep it real," come off like a bickering sorority clique. Be grateful for them, too. We all have our place.
Me? I’m just a regular cat, but I do make part of my living doing this, which makes me a professional. It also makes Listen Here different from your typical blog-besides the fact that mediocre scribes are getting over doing something I spent seven years in college learning. I’ll actually put work into these pieces. Respect to the progressive and dedicated bloggers for doing their thing and doing just that. Keep it up, because I’m biting your shit left and right.
See, it’s okay to steal from the best. That’s what makes Listen Here and Ground Lift magazine a lot like the rest. That originality I spoke of earlier is at an all-time low. We’re not splitting the atom here, but we are keeping it gangster in our own way, and trying to flip the ill shit the best way we know how. I was initially going to jack Funkadelic for the title of this column and call it "May I Frighten You?" I figured we were all tired of running scared. I hope you find Listen Here a bit more accommodating.
Ronnie Reese is the dude you've been hearing about. With a Waxpoetics-cover-story-trifecta under his belt, he's recently had the GL logo tattooed on his forehead.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home