Police have a questionable relationship with hip hop -- the time for change is now
Often, things in life come full circle.
Few hip hop fans could possibly forget Tupac Shakur's erry foretelling of his own death in his video for "I Ain't Mad At'Cha". Following his death, the video was looked at by many as not only a gesture of posthumous serenity by a man whose life was extinguished by the violence that is all too often a part of rap music, but also as a glaring indictment of that violence.
So it's no surprise that following the shooting death of DeShaun Holton -- known to his friends and fans as Proof -- speculators are looking back at the video for Eminem's "Toy Soldiers", a song lamenting the current rise in violence inherent in rap music. It is a rise of violence that has recently claimed the life of Israel Ramirez, a bodyguard working for Busta Rhymes. It has also been at the heart of acts of violence directed at artists such as Proof's labelmate Obie Trice, who was shot while driving on New Year's Eve 2005.
It is also no surprise that so many writers -- of various stripes -- are lamenting this latest rash of violence. However, examining the history of rap and hip hop, it becomes apparent that this "latest rash" is no abbheration in the trends of violence related to this music. In fact, it is business as usual.
When Lil' Kim was on trial for her part in a 2001 shootout at New York radio station Hot '97, she confirmed that shootouts in the lobby of this radio station are far more common place than many people would like to believe. An associate of The Game was shot in the leg during one such confrontation in 2005.
Rap legend Jam Master Jay was shot and killed inside his own recording studio in 2002. Rumors would eventually circulate that the shooting was in some way related to the drug trade. Sadly, it seems that not even hip hop's legends are safe from the violence that seems to permeate its culture.
In 2003, an alleged dispute between record labels led to the shooting of Atlanta rapper Souljah Slim, who had been linked to the notorious C Murder, currently being held for murder under extremely questionable circumstances.
In what may be one of the highest-profile incidents of the past ten years, the 2000 Source Awards errupted into violence. UPN would air the award show (which had been taped for later broadcast) despite the riot. In 2005 a BET (Black Entertainment Television) awards after party was broken up by riot police.
Even some of the softer elements of hip hop (or at least related music) are not immune to violence. In 2001, a man was shot and killed after an Usher concert. Usher isn't known to draw the most rowdy audiences -- at least not by hip hop standards.
As with all stories of this nature, these are only the stories of the highest profile. More often than not, the most intense violent incidents are contested in the same place the music is said to come from -- the street. More often than not, the violence is between relative (or complete) unknowns, far away from the public eye.
Many people would believe that the violence underpinning rap and hip hop highlights only the nature of the music itself, but there is one other matter at hand -- the highly questionable relationship between hip hop and law enforcement.
Year after year, observers are subjected to a litany of weapons chargest laid against hip hop aritsts and their associates. Thus far in 2006, charges have been laid against Master P, Silk tha Shocker, Millionaire Turk and producer Christopher Hicks. Mario Etheridge, the man who shot Proof (allegedly after Proof pistol whipped and shot bouncer and Gulf War I veteran Kieth Bender) has also been charged with weapons-related offenses.
In many cases of violence against rap and hip hop artists, police fail to ever fully investigate the matter -- let alone press charges against anyone responsible. In many cases where rappers are considered suspects, investigations are steered toward the eventual arrest of the rapper in question. Considering the cases of Tupac Skakur and Biggie Smalls (the murderers of neither were ever -- or are likely to ever be -- brought to justice) and C-Murder (who is still in prison for a murder that neither forensic evidence nor eyewitness account can prove he committed), there is no question that rap/hip hop violence is widely ignored by law enforcement.
Detroit police, on the other hand, have promised a full investigation into the murder of Proof. With the investigation still ongoing, they may yet deliver. The time has long passed for the issue of violence within hip hop circles to be taken seriously by police in all its facets -- a murdered rapper deserves justice no less than any murder victim.
In the case of Proof, however, this may be a more complex matter. Initial police reports suggest that Proof attacked first, and may well have murdered a man in cold blood before he was shot.
Regardless of the outcome, this may be the best opportunity for law enforcement to change its record regarding this issue.
Showing posts with label C-Murder. Show all posts
Showing posts with label C-Murder. Show all posts
Sunday, April 16, 2006
Monday, May 16, 2005
Threatening Freedom
Freedom of Speech is Under Attack, and Battles Have Already Been Won and Lost
“Some people ask if I feel like rappers have a responsibility to their listeners, and I have to say… no. Your only responsible is to make it as hot as it can be,” says Kanye West in the documentary Russel Simmons Presents: Hip Hop Justice.
Responsibility has been a very touchy subject in regards to music for decades. Perhaps the most high-profile argument in history regarding this subject has to be the Judas Priest subliminal suicide trial of 1985. In this case, it was argued that Judas Priest was legally responsible for the suicides of Raymond Belknap and James Vance (who, it should be mentioned would not die for an additional two years – but from the affects of the attempt).
It was argued that the song “Stained Glass” featured subliminal messages that urged the listener to “do it” without actually suggesting what. Regardless, it was determined that the sound was the result of two coincidentally occurring noises on the record – charges were dismissed against the band.
Ever since, however, this has been the battle over musical lyrics: those who claim that musicians have a responsibility to their listeners, and are to blame for the actions of those who imitate them, and those that claim the responsibility belongs not to the musicians, but to the listeners.
The debate certainly hasn’t ended with Judas Priest. If anything, it has expanded into additional forums. Violence has been joined by sexuality and family values as part of this debate. Some of the most inflammatory artists of the past ten years include Marilyn Manson, Eminem and Christina Aguilera. Historically, they join artists such as Judas Priest, the Dead Kennedys, Public Enemy and Body Count. Even country music trio the Dixie Chicks have felt the repercussions of their statements of political dissent – more notably, those not made through music.
The public has developed two main strategies for acting on their outrage regarding music: protest and legal action.
Eminem is no stranger to protest. Following the release of his 1999 album “The Marshall Mathers LP”, the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) launched an ambitious campaign of protest against the rapper. “ The Marshal Mathers LP contains the most blatantly offensive, homophobic lyrics GLAAD has ever seen," said GLAAD Executive Director Joan M. Garry. GLAAD would follow Eminem from the MTV Music Video Awards to the Grammys, where Eminem would refute his critics by performing his hit song “Stan” with homosexual music legend Elton John.
Often, these protests are accompanied by well-orchestrated boycotts, as was also the case with Eminem. Perhaps the most famous boycott of all time was that of the Beatles after John Lennon’s assertation that the Beatles had become “bigger than Jesus”.
While there is something fundamentally democratic about protest campaigns, sometimes, the law steps into the fray and attempts to hold musicians responsible for their lyrics. Perhaps the most glaring example is the tale of Corey Miller, aka C-Murder.
The tale of C-Murder ultimately begins on January, 12, 2002, a night that will forever live in infamy within hip hop circles. On this evening, Miller attended a Louisiana Nightclub. Perhaps coincidentally, it was this same night that Steve Thomas, a 16 year-old who had snuck into the club, was shot dead.
Unfortunately for Miller, when a rapper goes out in public, they go out as their stage persona – whether they want to or not. Doubly unfortunate was the fact that this means they stand out.
With this (and, perhaps, his stage name) in mind, it may not be surprising that police would charge Miller with the murder, alleging that it stemmed from an argument that he allegedly had with the deceased. Miller was arrested, and held on $1 million bail. Perhaps even more damning for Miller was that he was at the time free on a $250,000 bond issued for an attempted murder charge. Miller also had a weapons-related offense on his record.
Upon going to trial, however, the persona of Miller virtually disappeared in the prosecution’s eyes, as they focused their efforts around Miller’s C-Murder persona. C-Murder would even appear on court documentation as an alias, and many of his violent lyrics would be entered in court as evidence.
While this practice alone is legally questionable, concerns would repeatedly be raised about the treatment of Miller’s rights – first and foremost his right to be considered guilty until proven innocent. In the years subsequent to his conviction, many dirty details about the case would be revealed, including police rejection of contradictory evidence: a witness that not only claimed that Miller had not been seen with a gun, but that another individual had been – and individual the witness was even able to identify.
In March, the Louisiana Fifth Circuit Court of Appeal ruled that Miller’s constitutional rights had not been violated, and upheld his conviction.
Among the more bizarre recent developments in Miller’s case is that his lawyer, Ron Rakosky, has been restricted from bringing pens to his meetings with his client – prison officials note that hollow pens could be used to smuggle song lyrics, which in this case are obviously being declared to be contraband.
Whatever the truth behind Miller’s case may ultimately be, the stance of law enforcement toward violence within the hip hop community is a little more ambiguous. In the case of the November 26, 2003 murder of New Orleans-based rapper Soulja Slim, for example, charges against prime suspect Garelle Smith (who, it is suspected accepted a $10,000 fee for Slim’s assassination) were suddenly dropped, citing insufficient evidence.
Third District Detective James Scott, however, had one further comment: “live hard, die hard, I guess.”
Ironically, Soulja Slim had collaborated with C-Murder, but this aside, one also remembers two other higher-profile cases with no arrests – the cases of 2Pac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. This may be a statement on the complicated nature of hip hop violence, or it may also be a statement on the treatment of these incidents by police officials. Either way, the argument is wrought with rhetoric and hearsay. Little solid evidence exists.
Regardless, an issue regarding freedom and responsibility continues to pervade the music industry.
Perhaps it is important to remember that speech is a powerful thing. Furthermore, as the great Stan Lee asserts, with great power comes great responsibility. There is no question that musicians have tremendous power. Many of our society’s greatest political minds have, indeed, been musicians, and some (such as the incomparable Bob Marley) have become so powerful that governments have taken the matters into their own hands.
It could be considered that Kanye West is wrong. With the power of speech (and the ideas that an individual can convey through them) must come great responsibility. It is only the nature of that responsibility that is up for debate.
Are musicians responsible for the actions of those who act on their ideas? Ultimately, the answer must be no. But it could be argued that musicians should accept responsibility for the ideas themselves. Regardless, when song lyrics can actually be considered evidence in a court of law, the United States has taken yet another step toward becoming a Police state – it is a direct assault upon freedom of speech.
Freedom of speech in its various forms must be defended. The very principles of democracy cannot exist without it.
“Some people ask if I feel like rappers have a responsibility to their listeners, and I have to say… no. Your only responsible is to make it as hot as it can be,” says Kanye West in the documentary Russel Simmons Presents: Hip Hop Justice.
Responsibility has been a very touchy subject in regards to music for decades. Perhaps the most high-profile argument in history regarding this subject has to be the Judas Priest subliminal suicide trial of 1985. In this case, it was argued that Judas Priest was legally responsible for the suicides of Raymond Belknap and James Vance (who, it should be mentioned would not die for an additional two years – but from the affects of the attempt).
It was argued that the song “Stained Glass” featured subliminal messages that urged the listener to “do it” without actually suggesting what. Regardless, it was determined that the sound was the result of two coincidentally occurring noises on the record – charges were dismissed against the band.
Ever since, however, this has been the battle over musical lyrics: those who claim that musicians have a responsibility to their listeners, and are to blame for the actions of those who imitate them, and those that claim the responsibility belongs not to the musicians, but to the listeners.
The debate certainly hasn’t ended with Judas Priest. If anything, it has expanded into additional forums. Violence has been joined by sexuality and family values as part of this debate. Some of the most inflammatory artists of the past ten years include Marilyn Manson, Eminem and Christina Aguilera. Historically, they join artists such as Judas Priest, the Dead Kennedys, Public Enemy and Body Count. Even country music trio the Dixie Chicks have felt the repercussions of their statements of political dissent – more notably, those not made through music.
The public has developed two main strategies for acting on their outrage regarding music: protest and legal action.
Eminem is no stranger to protest. Following the release of his 1999 album “The Marshall Mathers LP”, the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation (GLAAD) launched an ambitious campaign of protest against the rapper. “ The Marshal Mathers LP contains the most blatantly offensive, homophobic lyrics GLAAD has ever seen," said GLAAD Executive Director Joan M. Garry. GLAAD would follow Eminem from the MTV Music Video Awards to the Grammys, where Eminem would refute his critics by performing his hit song “Stan” with homosexual music legend Elton John.
Often, these protests are accompanied by well-orchestrated boycotts, as was also the case with Eminem. Perhaps the most famous boycott of all time was that of the Beatles after John Lennon’s assertation that the Beatles had become “bigger than Jesus”.
While there is something fundamentally democratic about protest campaigns, sometimes, the law steps into the fray and attempts to hold musicians responsible for their lyrics. Perhaps the most glaring example is the tale of Corey Miller, aka C-Murder.
The tale of C-Murder ultimately begins on January, 12, 2002, a night that will forever live in infamy within hip hop circles. On this evening, Miller attended a Louisiana Nightclub. Perhaps coincidentally, it was this same night that Steve Thomas, a 16 year-old who had snuck into the club, was shot dead.
Unfortunately for Miller, when a rapper goes out in public, they go out as their stage persona – whether they want to or not. Doubly unfortunate was the fact that this means they stand out.
With this (and, perhaps, his stage name) in mind, it may not be surprising that police would charge Miller with the murder, alleging that it stemmed from an argument that he allegedly had with the deceased. Miller was arrested, and held on $1 million bail. Perhaps even more damning for Miller was that he was at the time free on a $250,000 bond issued for an attempted murder charge. Miller also had a weapons-related offense on his record.
Upon going to trial, however, the persona of Miller virtually disappeared in the prosecution’s eyes, as they focused their efforts around Miller’s C-Murder persona. C-Murder would even appear on court documentation as an alias, and many of his violent lyrics would be entered in court as evidence.
While this practice alone is legally questionable, concerns would repeatedly be raised about the treatment of Miller’s rights – first and foremost his right to be considered guilty until proven innocent. In the years subsequent to his conviction, many dirty details about the case would be revealed, including police rejection of contradictory evidence: a witness that not only claimed that Miller had not been seen with a gun, but that another individual had been – and individual the witness was even able to identify.
In March, the Louisiana Fifth Circuit Court of Appeal ruled that Miller’s constitutional rights had not been violated, and upheld his conviction.
Among the more bizarre recent developments in Miller’s case is that his lawyer, Ron Rakosky, has been restricted from bringing pens to his meetings with his client – prison officials note that hollow pens could be used to smuggle song lyrics, which in this case are obviously being declared to be contraband.
Whatever the truth behind Miller’s case may ultimately be, the stance of law enforcement toward violence within the hip hop community is a little more ambiguous. In the case of the November 26, 2003 murder of New Orleans-based rapper Soulja Slim, for example, charges against prime suspect Garelle Smith (who, it is suspected accepted a $10,000 fee for Slim’s assassination) were suddenly dropped, citing insufficient evidence.
Third District Detective James Scott, however, had one further comment: “live hard, die hard, I guess.”
Ironically, Soulja Slim had collaborated with C-Murder, but this aside, one also remembers two other higher-profile cases with no arrests – the cases of 2Pac Shakur and Biggie Smalls. This may be a statement on the complicated nature of hip hop violence, or it may also be a statement on the treatment of these incidents by police officials. Either way, the argument is wrought with rhetoric and hearsay. Little solid evidence exists.
Regardless, an issue regarding freedom and responsibility continues to pervade the music industry.
Perhaps it is important to remember that speech is a powerful thing. Furthermore, as the great Stan Lee asserts, with great power comes great responsibility. There is no question that musicians have tremendous power. Many of our society’s greatest political minds have, indeed, been musicians, and some (such as the incomparable Bob Marley) have become so powerful that governments have taken the matters into their own hands.
It could be considered that Kanye West is wrong. With the power of speech (and the ideas that an individual can convey through them) must come great responsibility. It is only the nature of that responsibility that is up for debate.
Are musicians responsible for the actions of those who act on their ideas? Ultimately, the answer must be no. But it could be argued that musicians should accept responsibility for the ideas themselves. Regardless, when song lyrics can actually be considered evidence in a court of law, the United States has taken yet another step toward becoming a Police state – it is a direct assault upon freedom of speech.
Freedom of speech in its various forms must be defended. The very principles of democracy cannot exist without it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)