Street Kings: Martin & Common

“Hold the same fight that made Martin Luther the King”
(Common – “A Dream”)

Two years ago, about.com had a poll asking which emcee is the hip hop equivalent of Martin Luther King Jr.

The list was a who’s who of true lyricists, artists that have each in their own way spoken out against systems of oppression in a potent mix of poetry and politics. As a whole, they’re not the most popular rappers in the game, but they are by far the most focused on making a statement and spitting about what it is they stand for. Unapologetically. Undeniably. Each of the following names stands on its own as a force of revolution to be reckoned with:

Chuck D. Common. Talib Kweli. Pharoahe Monch. Lauryn Hill. Black Thought. Nas. KRS-One. Mos Def.

There were 371 votes cast when the poll closed and with 79 votes or 21 percent, Chi-town rapper Common was crowned as the most Kingly emcee. In a close second was god’s son Nas with 20 percent and Public Enemy frontman Chuck D. came in third with 12 percent of the votes. Lauryn Hill had 11 percent and the rest of the rappers had percentages under 10 including Other.

Today marks the 40th anniversary of the death of Martin Luther King Jr., one of the greatest orators of all time who could freestyle with the best of them. I wonder what he would think of the poll. Would he want to add anyone to the list? Take someone off of it? Would he vote for Common as the emcee that is his equivalent? Perhaps he would put out an album featuring his favorite rappers a la Cornel West. Or maybe he wouldn’t listen to hip hop at all.

It doesn't surprise me that Common -- who will be seen in the racially charged movie Street Kings one week from today -- would get the most votes in the public poll. He has been expressing messages that resonate with inspiration and consciousness from day one, attracting fans from all creeds and colors. He’s more modern that Chuck D. and KRS-One, less aggressive than Black Thought and Pharoahe Monch, more masculine than Ms. Hill and less controversial than Nas.

At the end of 2006, Common and will.i.am released “A Dream,” the lead single from the Freedom Writers movie soundtrack:

"Will had the beat pretty much hooked up, but once he started putting the Dr. Martin Luther King sample on there, it took me to a whole spiritual high level," Common told MTV. "The movie was already inspiring, but to be on a song with Martin Luther King, I had to write to the best of my ability. Ain't no playing when you have Martin Luther King on there."

"I think that hip-hop is part of that Martin Luther King dream. Hip-hop is a bridge to bring people together. ... At my concerts it's white kids, Latino kids, Asian kids sharing the same experience. I think hip-hop is bringing people together."

But let’s be real. It’s difficult to compare King to any modern-day emcee. First of all, it is a different day and age, where prejudice exists behind the scenes in subtleties and erupts ever so often in the forms of blind rants (Richards, Imus, Dobbs).



And rappers don’t march. They lean and rock with it. They have concerts. For cash. And they develop a following based on beats before beliefs. This is, of course, a generalization because at its core, hip hop is meant to represent everything King spoke about: social change, unity and progress.

But I do believe that every name on that poll above lives up to that standard in some way. And hip hop, at its best, will continue to grow out of Dr. King’s undying legacy. Just ask Barack Obama.

Don’t Worry If He Writes Rhymes, He Writes Texts

They call Kwame Kilpatrick the “Hip Hop Mayor.”

If you asked me why a few months ago, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you why and truth be told, I can’t even tell you who “they” are. Not only is he the mayor of America’s most dangerous city, but he’s the son of Rep. Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick and was elected when he was 31 as the youngest mayor in the city’s history. But now he is caught up so deep in this case that by the end of this year, he might himself be history. And it’s no LOL matter.

But why is Kilpatrick considered hip hop? Is it ‘cause he’s black?

Ok. He did host Russell Simmons and rappers during Hip Hop Summit at Cobo Arena in 2003 and again at Wayne State University in 2006. But that’s played out. He does have a myspace. He's stylish. I suppose his wild stripper party at the Mayor’s mansion in 2002 and the lap dance he was getting from a stripper when his wife walked in might mirror some low-budget Rap City videos. (btw, the stripper, Tamara Greene, was killed the next year in a case that remains unresolved and in some crazy way is linked to all his current drama. More on that later.) But, as we all know, a real life BET video hardly makes anyone hip hop.

I didn’t get it at first, but with all that’s going on with dude nowadays, it’s starting to make some sense. Earlier this year, the Detroit Free Press found some 14,000 salacious text messages exchanged between Kilpatrick and his chief of staff, Christine Beatty, a chick he knew since high school. The text messages were from five years ago on city issued pagers, but when he wrote messages like "That's the first time I couldn't fully seduce you! My game is off. LOL!" he wasn’t talking about failure to push legislation. They were both married with children at the time of the affair. Beatty has since divorced and resigned. Carlita Kilpatrick is standing by her man.

It all came to an exploding head last week when Wayne County Prosecutor Kym Worthy announced a 12-count criminal indictment against Kilpatrick and Beatty. Kilpatrick was charged with eight felonies including perjury, misconduct in office and obstruction of justice. Apparently, the text messages also revealed that he was also lying during a whistle-blower lawsuit about the firing of Deputy Police Chief Gary Brown, who before he was “fired” was investigating the aforementioned stripper party where the mayor’s wife may or may not have attacked Tamara Greene. Drama right? (Not to mention Beatty’s former husband and Kilpatrick supposedly were boys.) It does have some sort of Jay-Z/Nas beef ring to it and his shady under-the-table dealings do appear Wire-esque. But still, all this makes Kilpatrick seem more Bill Clinton than Beanie Sigel.

But by the end of last week, I became a convert. Kilpatrick is hip hop. I’m not talking the alive and kicking version that became a global phenomenon linking cultures and customs in one empowering and emancipating language of art. I’m talking about today’s hip hop. The dead one.

Kilpatrick is yet another version of what happens when keeping it real goes wrong, when you slack on your pimpin’. First off, why in the world would you broadcast your undercover escapades on city-issued anything? And to my knowledge, he was the who re-authorized the city directive that said all electronic communication sent on city equipment should be “used in an honest, ethical, and legal manner,” not for personal or private use. But that’s not why he’s hip hop.

His hip hop status comes not from his actions, but his swagger, as misguided as it might be. On Thursday, he told hundreds of people that authorities are trying to “lock me up forever” over the messages.

"I have the opportunity right now to go prison, not jail, for text messages," Kilpatrick said during a 40-minute speech. "There's been no evidence. No facts presented. Get out of office and go to prison."

"I will humbly serve you till the day I die," he said from the pulpit.

In classic rapper fashion, Kilpatrick said he ain’t going nowhere. Despite what he’s up against, he sounds convinced that he is impervious to punishment. But really, if you peel away the layers of his bloated bravado, all you see is a power figure trembling like a sandbox bully who just hit a teacher. Just ask Remy Ma. It doesn’t get real until the prison sentence is given.

Not only that, but Kilpatrick seems bent on blaming everybody but himself. That sounds like a few modern-day emcees I know. Whether it’s LL Cool J or Method Man blaming Def Jam for their album sales numbers or rappers in general blaming the press for negative reviews and criticism. There should come a point where you own up to your part in the issue. (This goes for America at large too which of course blames rap for all of its ills.) But like rappers, Kilpatrick is in a position of authority. What he does and says matters and with that comes responsibility. Kilpatrick might know responsibility. They might have even been cool at one point. But right now, it doesn’t look like Kilpatrick has been kicking it much with responsibility. At least not in public. (Maybe he hooked up with his wife on the low.)

Kilpatrick is definitely trying to save face, which is standard procedure in hip hop. David Patterson, New York’s new governor came clean about his extramarital affairs and drug use so I guess that makes him the Rock n Roll Governor. Or is that R&B? In any case, I’ve been thinking about Kilpatrick’s attachment to technology and in this age of ringtone rap, I wondered what he might have on his phone when a certain somebody dials his number.
So here’s my list of Kilpatrick’s top five ringtones:

“Can’t Let You Go” by Fabolous (for Christine Beatty)
We been creepin and sneakin/Just to keep it from leakin/We so deep in our freakin/That we don't sleep on the weekend
Need I say more?

“Song Cry” by Jay-Z (for Carlita Kilpatrick)
It was out of this and Jigga’s “03 Bonnie and Clyde” but with that “me and my girlfriend” hook, Kilpatrick didn’t want to risk getting confused and answering the phone with the wrong name on his tongue.

“Cleaning Out My Closet” by Eminem (for Rep. Carolyn Cheeks Kilpatrick)
2Pac’s Dear Mama would have been too obvious, especially if it rings in a city budget meeting. Plus, it is more earnest than Detroit’s mayor seems to be. But with this Eminem cut as a polyphonic ringtone, Kilpatrick can nod his head while knowing in the back of it that he’s about to get it.

“Playa Hata” by the Luniz (for the Detroit Free Press)
In 1995, along with “I Got 5 On It,” this track was the other classic from the Oakland rap duo and I’m sure big pimpin’ Kilpatrick is feeling this one right about now.

“Bad Boy For Life” by Diddy (for all other callers)
Kilpatrick could have quoted directly from this track last week as he vowed to remain in office. Residents are torn. Some say he should stay. Others say he should go. The saga continues…

The Correlation of Church and State

Back in the day, when this country was the so-called “New World,” everybody and they mama was coming this way to get away from religious persecution.

Nevermind the fact the Native American tribes been here. Chillin. Or that this country was billed as the place to be if you wanted to get your own religion on.

Religious tolerance, they called it. And ever since then, public officials have been hammering the “separation of church and state” idea over our heads, which meant the church and government should mind their own businesses. Thomas Jefferson linked the phrase to the First Amendment in a letter to a religious minority group in Connecticut, stating that the government power would be limited to actions, not opinions and natural rights.

But, as we all know, that “wall of separation” between church and state might as well be the Wall of Jericho. Nevermind the fact that church and state were shacking up at the time the Constitution was written. Or that there are religious references in official contexts such as the Declaration of Independence and that the national motto is “In God We Trust.”

American sociologist Robert N. Bellah argued the point that just because there is supposed to be that separation doesn’t mean there can’t be religiousness in political spheres. In his analysis of John F. Kennedy’s inaugural speech, he wrote this:

"Considering the separation of church and state, how is a president justified in using the word 'God' at all? The answer is that the separation of church and state has not denied the political realm a religious dimension.”

Which brings me to now (I’m done with the history lesson), with the drama surrounding Presidential hopeful Barack Obama and Rev. Jeremiah Wright Jr. Wright married Obama and his wife Michelle, baptized their children and the Obama family has attended Wright’s Trinity United Church of Christ for more than 20 years. Wright retired in early 2008 but in the past few weeks, he has become mainstream media’s latest target for his comments from previous years:

"The government gives them the drugs, builds bigger prisons, passes a three-strike law and then wants us to sing 'God Bless America.' No, no, no, God damn America, that's in the Bible for killing innocent people," he said in a 2003 sermon. "God damn America for treating our citizens as less than human. God damn America for as long as she acts like she is God and she is supreme."

Now, maybe I'm crazy, but this sounds spot on to me. The media snatched random quotes and video clips, by the way, but what part of this is false? And even if you take issue with the rhetoric, what does Obama have to do with what this man chooses to say? Unlike some candidates, he has his own mind. After staying silent on the issue for a few days, Sen. Hillary Clinton told reporters and editors at the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review, as she interviewed for the paper’s editorial endorsement, that she would have not attended Wright’s church:

“He would not have been my pastor. You don’t choose your family, but you choose what church you want to attend.”

Errr? Obama has already said that to him, Wright is like that “old uncle” that you don’t always agree with. That should be the end of it. Next thing you know, they'll be interviewing some friend of a second cousin whose babymama used to work with the neighbor of the man that once delivered mail to Obama and was overheard saying "the government is full of crap." And guess who will get the blame for that. It doesn’t make a difference if you choose your church or family because at a point, they become one in the same. There is nobody on this planet that has the exact same perspectives that you do and as the cliché goes, that’s what makes people unique.

Bet, there are people in Clinton’s campaign who don’t agree with everything she says and does, but that does not mean they’re wrong or she's wrong for associating with them. And if this country was “founded” on those very ideals of open opinions, why is this such a big deal? And it seems to be a big deal only with Obama. The media, Clinton and the Republican machine seem jointly bent on forcing the Senator from Chicago to address his faith for some odd reason. Before the Wright commotion, the big question was whether or not Obama was a Muslim. And it was all about Farrakhan before that.

Obama, being the smooth operator that he is, did not reject Wright. He did denunciate the comments but more importantly, Obama used the opportunity to open a discussion on race in America.

And Chi-town rapper Common, who supports Obama and rapped at the megachurch on New Year’s Eve, came forward to defend his former pastor:

"He never really was against white people or another race," says Common. "It was more against an establishment that was oppressing people. I think we all can see that this country has problems and a lot of it starts in the political system."

As the wall of separation between church and state continues to crumble before our eyes (as if it ever existed), we will continue to see more of this religious smearing. But there is some good to it: At least T.I. -- who's currently under house arrest and facing serious time on weapons charges -- got to go to church on Easter Sunday.

The Wire: A Final Farewell

"...life is made of ever so many partings welded together..."
-- Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

I feel like Bubbles.

Not the fifth season, top-floor resurrected, clean-shaven Bubbles. I’m talking pre-stair climb, cart-pushing, vacant room resident Bubbles. It has been one week since HBO's definitive urban drama The Wire ended its powerful five-year indictment of America’s war on drugs and I need a fix.

For the past week, I kept holding my breath, hoping that somehow some way, David Simon and Ed Burns, co-creators of The Wire, would return, finding another murky crevice of Baltimore to explore. But now, seven days later, the fact that The Wire is truly over is starting to feel as real as the show felt when it was on.

It feels odd now, almost post-apocalyptic, like the world ended when The Wire went off and I was one of the unlucky ones who got left behind to the brain poisoning of shows like Flavor of Love 3. In that case, I guess I’m more like Dukie. Everything else on TV seems lifeless but alternatives don’t seem to exist. And not only that but, as weird as it sounds, characters from the incredible show have been making cameos in my dreams. Two nights ago, I dreamt I was talking to Michael about his turning point scene with Snoop in this last season:

"How my hair look?"

"You look good, girl."

And now when I watch movies, I draw connections between characters like how the ice-cold kingpin Marlo could easily embody the Coen Brothers’ "unstoppable evil" archetype most recently seen in "No Country For Old Men" with Anton Chirgurh, the heartless hitman played immaculately by Javier Bardem.

That is how it happens. The Wire creeps into your subconscious and stays there for good. It keeps you hooked long after it's over. That is part of the genius of Simon and Co. But it is so much more than that. The Wire found a way to connect worlds that, in real life, mainstream media aims to compartmentalize. There are no good guys or bad guys. There are only people with problems and potential and pain. Often, it has been said that The Wire can be compared to the fiction of Charles Dickens with its vast cast sprawled across socioeconomic levels, political spheres and the institutions that make the world go round and, too often, go wrong. Simon himself has often said that it is a novel.

This year, in its fifth and final season, The Wire -- with its compelling cast, interwoven plotlines and unflinching dialogue – reached critical mass. Every 10 minutes, some critic or blogger would post another entry rightly praising the genuine genius of the show (despite a common distaste for this season’s journalism angle). You could catch the back and forth dialogue at the TV Club at Slate, where Jacob Weisberg famously called it "The Best Show On Television." Or read the regular Wire commentary on Salon, which awarded the show its first-ever "Buffy" award. I even found a site that answered one of my original questions: why do white people like The Wire so much? My personal favorite was a New York Times’ Freakonomics blog called "What Do Real Thugs Think of The Wire? by Sudhir Venkatesh, author of "Gang Leader for a Day." And also Alan Sepinwall’s excellent Q&A with Simon. Or you could read this 6,000-word piece breaking down the first two seasons and urging us all to tune in.

Like all other Wire addicts, I too have become a private PR rep, pushing the show toward anyone in range, calling out like a corner boy. (“I got that new Wire DVD box set. Season Four.”) I got my girl on it, too. And when I’m out and I run into a fellow fanatic, it instantly becomes a point of connection. But for all the other millions who say “what’s The Wire?” or “so and so was telling me about it, but I never got into it,” all I can say is you’re missing out on a crucial part of life. But like “The Matrix,” no one can truly be told what The Wire is. You really do have to see it for yourself. And like the last film in “The Matrix” trilogy, The Wire ends with a system reboot: Michael is the new Omar and Dukie the new Bubbles. Sydnor is the new McNulty and Carver the new Daniels. And little Kenard is a Marlo-in-the-Making. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

The Wire has made such a poignant societal statement. And Cheese (rapper Method Man) summed it up best as he delivered the show’s five season epitaph: "There ain't no back in the day. Ain't no nostalgia. Just the street and the game…"

There are so many pieces of the series that you could extrapolate and spend forever writing about, analyzing the subtle symbolism or examining the parallels of certain story arcs. You could write about the indelible mark it has made on hip hop. Felicia Pearsons, the callous killer known as Snoop, and Michael K. Williams, everyone’s favorite old-school homo stick-up king with a code, Omar, supposedly have rap projects on the way. Or try to figure out why The Wire, with its predominately black cast, has been disgracefully ignored by Emmy voters.

But it is over now. And so I too bid a final farewell to the greatest show to ever be shown on the box, flip through the TV menu in vain and let Mr. Simon and Co. do the honors of concluding this eulogy with this excerpt from their thought-provoking TIME Magazine piece:

We write a television show. Measured against more thoughtful and meaningful occupations, this is not the best seat from which to argue public policy or social justice. Still, those viewers who followed The Wire — our HBO drama that tried to portray all sides of inner-city collapse, including the drug war, with as much detail and as little judgment as we could muster — tell us they've invested in the fates of our characters…

These viewers, admittedly a small shard of the TV universe, deluge us with one question: What can we do? If there are two Americas — separate and unequal — and if the drug war has helped produce a psychic chasm between them, how can well-meaning, well-intentioned people begin to bridge those worlds?

And to this question, they propose the following, not as a complete solution, but as an effective form of dissent:

If asked to serve on a jury deliberating a violation of state or federal drug laws, we will vote to acquit, regardless of the evidence presented. Save for a prosecution in which acts of violence or intended violence are alleged, we will — to borrow Justice Harry Blackmun's manifesto against the death penalty — no longer tinker with the machinery of the drug war. No longer can we collaborate with a government that uses nonviolent drug offenses to fill prisons with its poorest, most damaged and most desperate citizens.

'Kristen' Is Blowing Up. What Are Youuu Doing?

Rappers could learn a thing or two from Eliot Spitzer’s hooker.

More than a week ago, Ashley Alexandra Dupre was just another random 22-year-old aspiring pop singer from Jersey, an average nobody with a dream. But this week, the world met “Kristen,” Dupre’s alter ego as a high-priced escort and now she's (in)famous. In a matter of moments, she has become pop culture’s woman of the moment. This may not have been the type of stardom she has been searching for, but for Dupre’s feature role in the dramatic downfall of disgraced former New York Gov. Spitzer, she has been thrust into the mainstream. And, as she is finding out no doubt, the mainstream is muddy.

"I just don’t want to be thought of as a monster," she told the New York Times.

Dupre has been subpoenaed to testify in a grand jury investigation and all the while, her myspace page is hotter than the red-hot Houston Rockets, generating 5,000 visitors a minute. Her song, "What We Want," has been played more than three million times and counting. It has been playing on Z100 and 103.5 KTU, according to recent comments on her page. She added another track, "Move Ya Body," to her Amie Street profile and apparently an album is supposed to be coming out May 5. She was already a video chick. Now they’re talking possible book deals, photo shoots. This is the type of free publicity that all you up and coming e-rappers can only dream of.

It must suck. All Dupre had to do was get caught up in some illegal Mayflower Hotel hook-up, a career-crushing romp with a high official and now she’s rich.

And where are you Lil So and So? What kind of publicity have you gotten lately? A few comments from friends in your rap group telling you “that joint was hot”? A download or two in a day? Some rapper somewhere right now is probably plotting some scandalous scheme to get Condi Rice to come out the pocket for a deep tissue massage. I mean I know you’ve got to be asking yourself: what does "Kristen" have that I don’t?

She grew up rough too, at least according to her myspace profile, where her motto is “what destroys me, strengthens me.”

"But my path has not been easy. When I was 17, I left home. It was my decision and I've never looked back. Left my hometown. Left a broken family. Left abuse. Left an older brother who had already split. Left and learned what it was like to have everything, and lose it, again and again."

Even though the LA Times wrote a piece questioning the authenticity of her origin story: "It's a tough image to reconcile with the wealthy surroundings of a childhood spent with her mother, older brother and stepfather, an oral surgeon. The white brick home in an upscale development near the Jersey Shore, is bordered with manicured shrubs and a wide, curved driveway. Large brass letters spell "PEACE" above the polished, auburn wood door."

But so what if she’s making stuff up. It doesn’t matter to you, Lil So and So does it? You’ve embellished your bootstraps tale too, haven’t you? You’ve peppered it with some choice Scarface clips too, didn’t you? You can’t be mad at her. It’s all in the game. Just another hustle, right? But then again, you’ve been hustling hard too and it only seems to get you negative attention or worse, none at all, as you get stuffed into the back seat of a squad car for trying to fill in the lies of your backstory.

Nowadays, anyone with computer access can make a myspace page and claim to be the next big thing. But of course you know that. You already have your own myspace profile and no, you don't have 7 million and some odd views but you're the real deal, remember? You're not an average nobody.

"Kristen" is not your competition. She is your false idol, proving America's creed once again that crime does pay. Big time. But when it's all said and done, you can rest assured that Dupre's album will most likely go nowhere. She already peaked.

Yes, rappers, you could learn from Eliot Spitzer's hooker. You could learn how to compromise your aspirations in music for money and poor publicity and court drama. You could learn how to capitalize on scandal. You could learn how to sink to new lows to come up.

But I wouldn't recommend it. The sacrifice isn't worth it. Just ask her. And, to be fair, Ashley Alexandra Dupre is no monster, but she is a beast. Dupre, like Spitzer, is a symptom of this system. And hip hop has nothing to do with that.

***
P.S. I got an e-mail the other day from blogged.com telling me that they rated really real talk an 8.5 out of 10 in their entertainment/pop culture category.

We evaluated your blog based on the following criteria: Frequency of Updates, Relevance of Content, Site Design, and Writing Style. After carefully reviewing each of these criteria, your site was given its 8.5 score.

That's a good look.

Erykah Badu’s New AmErykah Part One (4th World War): The Revolution Will Not Be Categorized

"this year I turn 36/damn it seems it came so quick/my ass and legs have gotten thick, it's all me..."
(ME, New AmErykah Part One)

If you pick through Erykah Badu’s afro, you’ll find handcuffs, dice, turntables, a tree among smoke stacks, a syringe, and a baby with a barcode on his bald head, a computer with a brain on the screen, the all-seeing eye, a big truck on big rims, dollar signs, peace signs, a DNA double helix, guns, the medical symbol in a toilet and a tank. And much more.

These images form a collage on the incredible cover of her latest album, New AmErykah Part One (4th World War). So from the look of things, Ms. Badu has a lot on her mind. And it sounds that way too, which stands to reason since she has been away for five years.

On this 11-track album (which includes the 9th Wonder-produced bonus cut “Honey”), Badu talks about everything from politics to drug addiction, from the system to the everyday struggles of just living. She urges folks to hold on and not give up in the tribal, Madlib-produced “My People” and spits a message of empowerment over a soaring melody on “Soldier”: to my girls on prescription pills/I know how you feel/to my folks in Iraqi fields/this ain’t no time to kill. On “The Cell” and “Twinkle,” Badu delves deeper into the grim realities of society, painting a picture that seems even bleaker against its lush musical backdrop.

Whether she is showing vocal range or melodiously speaking, the album is an earnest opus of expression yet sonically nondescript. As a whole, it cannot be categorized. It opens with a 70s-funk inspired introduction called Amerykahn Promise, dabbles in Asian funk (The Healer, a J Dilla dedication with chimes and chants produced by Madlib) and the instrumentation switches up from one track to the next. It is a whirlwind otherworldly tour through Erykah Badu’s afro, a cosmic concoction of hip hop, jazz and ethereal funk that somehow fits together to form one undeniable declaration: She’s back.

And that’s a big statement. It has been more than 10 years since the release of her classic debut, Baduizm, which went triple platinum, earned her some Grammy Awards and became a pivotal touchstone of the so-called Neo-soul movement. Now for any “conscious” artist, it is at that point where the road gets rocky and a choice must be made. Commercial success can turn true artists into corporate pawns, who try to replicate, reformat and reproduce what they’ve already done for dollars. The pressure of living up to your own public persona causes many to crack. Just look at Lauryn, ahem, Ms. Hill. She would be on the other end of this spectrum, representing what happens when that pressure proves to be too powerful.

But remember, Badu and Ms. Hill helped usher in the Afrocentric fashion phase, the time at the turn-of-the-century when it became cool again to where ankhs and head wraps and anything of African origin. And, of course, when something becomes trendy, it typically loses value and meaning so it would have been no surprise if Badu switched up her style to please the masses out of fear of getting played out.

She did not. She stayed true to herself and contrarily moved farther away from the mainstream, sounding more organic with each subsequent album. And still, she is trying to prove nothing. And she offers no apologies about it. Through all the media speculation, through her public relationships with rappers Andre 3000 of Outkast and Common, through giving birth to two kids, Badu has emerged more aware, it seems, than ever. That is why the standout track of the album is "Me," a breezy jazz record produced by Shafiq Husayn (Sa-Ra) that sounds like it could have been an entry from her diary:

Everything around you see/the Ankhs the wraps the plus degrees/and yes even the mystery…it’s all me…

Sometimes it’s hard to move you see/when you’re growing publicly/but if I have to chose between, I choose me…

It is this type of sincerity, which resonates in the souls of listeners, that has kept Badu around all this time and will continue to make her relevant regardless of the decade. Like each of her prior albums, this one ain’t for everybody. Badu takes you places unexpected to see sights in a new light. But it’s her defiance of clichés and diverse mixtures that make the whole trip worth it and an album that has been worth the wait.

[This album is actually one of two installments and the second part, New AmErykah Part Two (Return of the Ankh), is expected this July.]

Hip Hop & Politics: Barack Obama's The Cool

In the past quarter century, Def Jam Recordings has been a weapon of mass projection. Founded in 1984 by Rick Rubin and Russell Simmons, the music label, owned by Universal Music Group, has launched a number of artists into the pop culture’s stratosphere from LL Cool J to Jay-Z to DMX. Hip hop gave a voice to the voiceless, a power to transcend race, gender and generations.

In 1999, Simmons, the so-called godfather of hip hop, sold his stake in the company for $100 million to develop the other arms of his corporation, Rush Communications, which included a management company, clothing line and anything else with Def on it. And of course you have his Hip Hop Summit Action Network, which is all about expanding the cultural relevance of hip hop music and empowering the youth through initiatives that encourage high quality public education and literacy, economic advancement and leadership development.

But also on the top of Simmons’ things-to-do list was “get the youth to vote.” It has been a focal point of his network since the beginning with him touring, talking and trying to inform the youth that they too have a voice. And that voice needs to be heard. It is a simple message, one that resonates in the realm of music as anybody with a beat and mouth believes they can and should rap nowadays. Myspace is littered with music pages of artists from all over claiming to be the next this or that or the first somebody you’ve never heard of.

But for years, that same authority hasn’t been as prominent during election seasons. There hasn’t been a clear cut method of driving people from the recording booth into the voting booth. Until now. But it had nothing to do with Russell Simmons or anyone else. The youth, it would seem, were just waiting for the right candidate. Scratch that. The youth were waiting for the buzz about the right candidate, in the tradition of so many hip hop fads. Presidential hopeful Barack Obama has done what no other candidate has done in history: He has made it "uncool" not to participate in the process. (Take note Lupe.)

Now, so and so from around the way might ask “who you got in the election?” just as easily as he would ask you your pick to win the NBA Finals (fyi, the Lakers got this year). The answers may not be the same. Rap legend Darryl McDaniels, D.M.C. of Run D.M.C. told the New York Observer that “he was thinking about backing Mrs. Clinton ‘because it’s gangsta. I ain’t doing what everybody else is doing.’” The hip hop intellectual himself Michael Eric Dyson is even going head to head with his wife over who should win. Will.i.am has been dropping celebrity heavy videos for months supporting the Chi-town Senator and Common gave him a shout out on his most recent album when he said “My raps ignite the people like Obama.” In this exceptional piece in The American Prospect, writer Latoya Peterson illustrates why Barack Obama is the “first hip-hop presidential candidate” in even broader terms:

Like hip-hop, Obama rose from long-shot hopeful to fierce contender. But it is more than just his political style that is rooted within hip-hop culture. Forget the money-cash-hoes bacchanal showing in an endless loop on MTV and BET. Ignore the thousand and one variations on "Superman" floating around YouTube. Hip-hop culture is a unifying force, a potent combination of entrepreneurship, community activism, creativity, and innovation that appeals to youth across the globe. Barack Obama is the hip-hop candidate, not because of his racial identity or his oratory skills, but because his policies and approach to politics demonstrate that he understands the needs and desires of the hip-hop community.

So with Barack Obama’s campaign standing for itself, where does that leave Russ? He’s still active. In January, he along with Deepak Chopra and Dr. Benjamin Chavis sent a letter to the candidates.(Check it out here.) And they responded.

And Sunday, Simmons endorsed Barack Obama after months of apparently going back and forth, given that he has done a lot of political work in New York and all. In the endorsement he wrote, "I have great respect for the accomplishments of Senator Clinton and I have personally worked with Senator Clinton successfully on issues concerning education, prison reform and poverty."

So on this day, another big Tuesday, Simmons does deserve props for his work, but more than that, the real champion is Obama for being the candidate with a voice that can transcend race, gender and generations. There is nothing more hip hop than that.

[See Russell Simmons' full statement here.]