Death of Hip Hop (...again?) What say you Grandmaster Flash?

As Bold as Love points us to another scribe, this time at Salon.com, bemoaning the death of thoughtful wordplay, and innovative beat engineering in commercial hip hop, word comes from allhiphop.com that Grandmaster Flash's autobiography is on the way.

First off, I am admittedly not a hip hop head. However, every time I read variations on this "death knell of hip hop" article I wonder why instead of writing various perspectives on the lowered standards and/or lack of innovation of the form in its commercial aspect, why aren't these writers looking at underground artists. I expect that focus wouldn't sell as much ad space, or generate as many clicks/hits (translate: readers) on those pages. But it would take the conversation about hip hop, or for that matter about any artistic form that seems to have become a gaseous ballooned parody of its former self, to where the art form itself is still alive, innovating and enervating.

OK, but on to Grandmaster Flash who is teaming up with writer David Ritz to put to the page the story of the Grandmaster's life, The Adventures of Grandmaster Flash: My Life, My Beats. Due out June 10, 2008, the book is positioned to cement as bona fide history Flash's reputation as a primary architect of hip hop. When the canonizing starts isn't that when the reports of the death of a creative genre or period are no longer considered to be wholly exaggerated? At least that's the point at which a genre becomes codified with particular distinguishing markers, possible edicts and demarcations of inclusion and exclusion, hierarchies of what Bourdieu would call "taste" and ideological camps, plus with canonizing comes particular types of research and documentation allowing for greater inroads into the scholarly realm, and conversely allowing for scholars to get to bring their skills to bear on a medium that likely gave them great pleasure while they were growing up and/or toiling to get that de-gree (to quote a Nikki Giovanni inflection). With canonization comes the before and after, the calls to revitalize the form and/or the celebration of creative contributions whose style, sophistication, emotional depth, composition, etc. harken back to the days of the forefather and occasionally acknowledged foremothers. Certainly, these are interesting times.

Lastly, does anyone else notice the way David Ritz has a lock on many of the music autobiographies and biographies of African American artists (Ray Charles, Etta James, Marvin Gaye, Jimmy Scott, B.B. King, Smokey Robinson) creating/innovating in the r&b/rock, soul, blues, jazz, and hybrid (let's face it Ray Charles unapologetically covered the field--and thank you Mr. Charles for that) musical forms during the mid-to-late 20th century? According to his website, Ritz's specialization, during his 30 year career as a writer, "has been the collaborative autobiography, a form I both respect and love. I've written sixteen such books, in addition to two independent biographies." Also, Ritz hasn't exclusively collaborated with African American musicians or written about them. He's also collaborated with comedian Don Rickles and former CBS label head Walter Yetnikoff on their memoirs, and with classical pianist Lang Lang on his forthcoming memoir (July 15, 2008), as well as with Priscilla Presley and Lisa Marie Presley on their family portrait of Elvis. Ritz also provided text for a Rolling Stone photography book on celebrities and their tattoos. But in the main it's African American figures (or African American originated musical genres), even when they aren't musicians (athletes Laila Ali and Gary Sheffield, and actor Felicia "Snoop" Pearson (The Wire)). I don't have a particular opinion on it a present--I'm just noticing, particularly because I'm reading his collaborative autobiography with Etta James, Rage to Survive: The Etta James Story (1995). It's clear he had the ability to get James to trust him enough to open up and articulate a lot of the pains and demons of her life, as well as the great love she had and has for various friends, fellow musicians, and her intense passion for singing. Reading the narrative, I feel like I'm hearing her voice--though of course I don't know the sound or meter of either her actual or narrative/storytelling voice. I'm only halfway done, so no more writing about it until I've reached the end. (pictured above right: Etta James at the 2006 St. Louis Jazz and Heritage Festival (aka Jazzfest))