CHAPTER 22 | HIP-HOP, THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION, AND REMIX CULTURE 543
HIP-HOP SINCE 1990
At the end of the 1980s, as New York–based groups like Pub-
lic Enemy and Boogie Down Productions were advancing rap
with socially conscious, often militant lyrics, a superfi cially
similar school of rap was emerging in Los Angeles. West Coast
rap broke on the national scene with “I’m Your Pusher,” a 1987
single by rapper Ice-T that sampled “Pusherman” from Curtis
Mayfi eld’s soundtrack for Super Fly. As graphic as Grandmaster
Flash’s “The Message” and even angrier, the new genre, dubbed
gangsta rap, earned greater notoriety with Straight Outta Comp-
ton, a 1989 album by N.W.A. (Niggaz with Attitude). The album’s
fi rst two tracks in particular, the title song and “Fuck Tha
Police,” alarmed the parents of the white suburban youth who
made up much of the audience for gangsta rap.
The racial and economic disparity between creators and
consumers of gangsta rap probably had much to do with its
bad reputation. Although the songs sought to raise political
awareness of ghetto inequities, at least in the movement’s early
phases, their effect on listeners far removed from those reali-
ties was to glorify the criminal activities described in the lyr-
ics. But as gangsta rap grew in popularity in the 1990s, its lyrics
became diffi cult to read in any other way. West Coast rap set
low standards for subject matter, not only romanticizing crimi-
nality but also endorsing misogyny, homophobia, and a mate-
rialistic outlook unparalleled for crassness and cynicism. An
assessment of its musical value is thus hampered by its frequently objectionable
lyrics and by a sense, too, that those lyrics trade on the most lamentable black
stereotypes in order to pander to an affl uent white audience. For the historically
minded, the white reception of gangsta rap, regardless of its creators’ intentions,
raises the specter of minstrelsy and its racist legacy.
That said, much of musical interest can be found in the work of the artists asso-
ciated with Death Row Records, an L.A. label launched in the 1990s. A member of
N.W.A. who signed onto Death Row as a solo artist was Dr. Dre, an innovative DJ,
producer, and rapper. Dre’s 1993 album The Chronic expands the musical range of
hip-hop beats by exploring more-relaxed tempos and greater textural variety, a
style called G-funk. A track like “Let Me Ride” (a reference to “Swing Down Chariot,”
a gospel song based on the spiritual “Swing Low, Sweet Chariot”) displays Dr. Dre’s
G-funk beat, built on samples from George Clinton and James Brown: a repetitious,
hypnotic groove; complex, funky bass line; straightforward drum machine; sparse,
synthesized chords; female background vocals; and a high, burbling synthesizer
line that twines sinuously around Dre’s rhythmically varied rapping.
The Chronic also introduced Dr. Dre’s protégé Snoop Doggy Dogg (later Snoop
Lion), a virtuoso rapper. Snoop’s relaxed vocal style swerves around the beat with
a playful unpredictability reminiscent of the jazz phrasing of Louis Armstrong
and Billie Holiday. His humor and musicality brought him success as a headliner,
beginning with Dogg ystyle, a 1996 album produced by Dr. Dre. The other major
rapper on Death Row, Tupac Shakur, in contrast, delivered socially conscious lyr-
ics in an intense style that harked back to Public Enemy’s Chuck D, enlivened with
the rhythmic fl exibility of West Coast rap.G-funkK Snoop Dogg and Tupac
Shakur, two foundational
members of West Coast rap,
at the MTV awards in 1996.172028_22_531-558_r3_sd.indd 543 23/01/13 11:20 AM