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Psychorealism
But does it really matter if gangsta rap "represents" reality? Unlike white artists, black artists and black entertainers, along with black athletes, often find themselves in the position of being political spokespeople for the "black experience" and black people in general. This state of affairs is one result of the racist exclusion of blacks from the educational system and the bourgeois public sphere as embodied in press organs and governmental institutions. Debates around the responsibility of black entertainers to be role models, educators, and politicians—in addition to being musicians, producers, and poets—involve an ethics of aesthetic practice that cannot always be reconciled with artistic production. A cultural commodity's relation to reality (whatever "reality" might be) cannot be conceived outside the fictionality that adheres to all aesthetic objects and that differentiates them from scholarly or scientific representations of reality. Thus although they may both take "Los Angeles" as their object, Ice Cube's "How to Survive in South Central" does not carry the same truth claim as Mike Davis's exhaustively researched and concisely written City of Quartz (or even Shocked and Bull's essay). |
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Shocked and Bull assert that gangsta rappers produce a "Zip Coon Toon
Town" version of Los Angeles, a "coon song Fantasyland." Of course,
it is not particularly insightful to claim that pop songwriters produce
fantasies about different cities, nor is it particularly promising to insist
that pop songwriters accurately depict the totality of social conditions
à la an aesthetic, now presumably obsolete, of socialist realism.![]() There is already a problem when we look to music produced by and about the black community as representative of reality in Los Angeles as a whole. Millions of individuals from every ethnic group live in Los Angeles. The largest ethnic group, in fact, is Latino. Unfortunately, hip-hop or rap produced by this community, and nominally accessible to the Anglo community, has only appeared recently in the form of Cypress Hill, probably the most popular Latino group (along with L.A.'s Los Lobos) since Santana's heyday. As has been shown repeatedly, the riots were multi-ethnic. In fact, more Latinos were arrested than blacks.16 Moreover, hundreds of refugees from Latin America, having fled U.S.-backed repression in El Salvador and Guatemala, were detained and deported to uncertain fates by the authorities in the aftermath of the turmoil. The ranks of these disenfranchised in Los Angeles have no voice as widely broadcast and consumed as that of the gangsta. It is not surprising then that Cypress Hill has chosen this genre for its highly successful brand of AK- and Glock-laden horror tripping. This violence comes to the consumer through a thick haze of pot smoke. Cypress Hill too participates in the pretense of reality (the lead rapper is named "B-Real") characteristic of the gangsta tradition, but it does so by emphasizing the irrational inscrutability of this reality. Thus their first major hit, "How I Could Just Kill a Man," declares that "here's one thing you can't understand." Similarly, their most recent single, "Insane in the Brain," stresses that they pose a threat to others, and the social order at large, because they're "loco." This celebration of the crazed, druggy killer can easily be read as an identification with that psycho figure who is the maniacal "other" of bourgeois social normality.17 The psycho can draw on a vast reservoir of shock value (just as a reputation
for craziness acts as an important deterrent against other men in macho
circles). As much part of the gangsta genre as "reality" (think of
the Geto Boys' "My Mind's Playin' Tricks on Me"), this insanity functions
as a rational response to a dangerous and unstable social environment.
To fault performers who claim psychosis (recall Ice-T, "I'm a nightmare
walkin'/Psychopath talkin'," in "Colors") as the position from We have already seen how bell hooks conceives this projection of insane
wildness onto the bodies of young black men. It should be pointed out that
the spectacle of another body crossing that limit tends to exercise a greater
fascination than the prospect of actually taking one's own body over the
line. At the same time, it is important to search out the material basis
for this insane investment of the real. Ice Cube, on The Predator,
links it explicitly to white racism, the history of which, he says, is
"still affecting us mentally." Likewise, on a recent collaboration with
the speed-metal band Slayer, Ice-T sings/screams, "Injustice drives you
crazy/It drove L.A. insane." That is, this insanity that speaks through
the voice of rap music is not simply a brand of psychic exoticism; it is
the mental state produced by the process of racist oppression to which
these bodies are subjected. The radical decentering of the subject, either
through the use of drugs or through the use of semiautomatic weapons (and
what could be more decentering than "a hole in your fuckin' head"?), which
finds its expression in rap, a decentering celebrated by poststructuralists
and postmodernists everywhere, results from an intensely decentering material
configuration of the real. The insane distortions of gangsta rap actually
make their representations realistic. It's just a pyschorealism thing. |