Pop Hop

Tupac Shakur's latest, sixth posthumous release (Pac's Life) has brought some fresh blood into what has become a stale and redundant genre. A genre which has become pop—in the sense that Tupac would have been most nauseated by.

Of course, none of the material on this new release can compare to Tupac's original work. This is nothing new: None of his posthumous releases can stack up to Thug Life, Me Against the World, All Eyez on Me, or the dangerously angry (and arguably fatal) Makaveli. That isn't to say his posthumous albums don't contain work which puts 50 Cent and his kind to shame.

Tupac's perfectionism has been well documented, and the exhaustive efforts he made to perfect his releases are apparent to even the laziest listener. Some of that is clearly missing from his latest release, but even in its immature state a comparison of this work serves to illustrate the dire situation "hip hop" faces today.

In its purest form, rap is poetry (spoken word does a lot to illustrate this point)—it is about the succinct distillation of anger and passion. Tupac, and those like him, pointed out injustice and challenged our precepts ... unapologetically. This bravado is essential to the art of rap—indeed, it sustains it—but it is only the means to an end.

These days hip hop consists of recycled sound bytes and familiar themes. It is all bravado: cars, bitches, money, chronic. Parts of the lifestyle? Yes, of course. Fun in their own way? You won't get an argument from me. But elevating the art form? Challenging its audience? Questioning precepts and authority? Inspiring positive change?

Hell no.

I dearly hope that hip hop will, some day in the future, become rap again. I hope the innovation and dedication which characterized its early development and made possible the miracle of Tupac Shakur will once again grace our airwaves. I hope that all the "rappers" making money that should have been Tupac's and Biggie's, will hang up their hats, get fat and happy, and die at an early age. They (and the genre they propagate) are victims of the popular success of hip hop.

We need to be hungry again. We need to be smart, angry, confident. We need to be poetic again.