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Edited on Wed Mar-23-05 11:17 AM by RandomKoolzip
I stayed up until 5 last night reading Jeff Chang's new book on the "History of the HipHop Generation."
Chang's a more than adequate writer; in fact he's pretty damn impressive at capturing the spirit of the best hiphop in his prose.
My quibble with the book is that he gets some of his facts wrong: for instance, he claims that graffiti was practically invented by teens in the Bronx in the early 70's, which I'm sure would offend the guy who used to write "Kilroy Was Here" all over bathroom walls in the 40's, if not the ancient Romans. And his contempt for rock is palpable; one needn't raze the acheivements of previous generations to prove the worth of one's own, which is what he does in the introduction and countless times within the body of the work.
To wit, he spends a lot of time acting as though hiphop was a real dividing line between "then" and "now," which of course, from his partisan vista, makes "then" look pretty awful; however, without the strives taken "then," "now" wouldn't exist. One of the bedrock points of the introduction is that hiphop supposedly rendered the concept of "generations" null and void, it killed off the boomers, etc. Which is odd, since the artists Chang loves so much made/make most of their living feeding off the records those boomers produced.
Also, it bugs me that he is unwilling to seperate the music from its context and focus on its aesthetics as a MUSIC; Chang sees the "four elements" as part of a whole unified culture without which, I presume, hiphop considered solely as a form of music would seem a bit aesthetically underfed. Certainly the tales of "graf" artists and "b-boys" are not as compelling, to me at least, as the tales concerning Public Enemy's formation, or the importation of Jamaican yard-parties into the Bronx via Kool Herc, or the recounting of how Grandmaster Flash invented "turntablism." These are the parts of the book that captivate and force you to take hiphop seriously as a music; the accounts of gallery openings and breakdancers drag the book down a bit.
But what remains is brilliant; if only for the first few chapters, which delineate the history of urban gang warfare in the Bronx, "Can't Stop Won't Stop" is worth the 24.50 I spent on it. And reading about hiphop's golden age, 1988-1991, almost brought a tear to my eye; look at how much we lost, and how little of worth has been in the spotlight since then. Maybe Chang's next project should be a full biography of Public Enemy or NWA: these groups deserve books of their own, and although Chang's accounts are more than adequate for an overview of a form, I wish I could get more anecdotes, more biographical info, and more analysis of the music itself.
To all the hiphop heads on DU, I promise: get this book and you will not be able to stop reading it.
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