Hip-Hop and Hyper-Commercialism

Hip-Hop and Hyper-commercialism

Simple beat, simple rhyme scheme, strong message. "Vans don't cost G's, real niggaz wear these Ð'- Vans," says a member of The Pack in the music video aptly titled "Vans." You may be asking yourself, "So, what's the big deal?" The big, highly lucrative deal is the marriage between big name corporations and their partnership with hip-hop. It's nothing new: Run-DMC had "My adiddas", LL Cool J wore Kangol hats, and even Jay-Z incorporated drinking Cristal into his lyrics for a long period of time. With that being said, the new hip-hop generation of today faces many adversities from years and years of subliminal marketing within their own sub-culture. The effects of hyper-commercialism are evident in American culture in general, but especially noticeable within popular rap music and urban associated culture.

As an avid listener and creator of hip hop music, I have noticed a growing trend in the bay area: rap about what brands you wear. Whether it be Nike, Vans, Bape, or Dickies, the message seems clear: you are what you wear. Even the term "bling, bling" is so deeply associated with hip-hop that you can't say it without an image of a big, gaudy necklace popping into your head. And immediately after that, you think, "that's something a rapper would wear." It's no secret why. The hip-hop culture has been portraying a certain image since it's birth in the late 1970's and has been exploited by big name companies since then.

The music industry invests in what sells; companies and corporations sponsor artists who sell and are marketable to a wide, general audience. In the PBS documentary, Merchants of Cool, Naomi Klein states, "Quite simply, every company with a powerful brand is attempting to develop a relationship with consumers that resonates so completely with their sense of self that they will aspire, or at least consent, to be serfs under these feudal brandlords." With this being said, the question of why the hip-hop image is so much different than that of rock music has always bothered me. Take the band Coldplay for example. The first adjectives that come to mind when thinking of the band are soft, emotional, and uplifting. And even though the band does not have that rebel edge, they managed to win Grammy's and sell millions of records without having brand names within their lyrics. Now examine a hip-hop artist equivalent with huge success in America, 50 Cent. His breakthrough album is entitled Get Rich or Die Tryin', appropriate for the philosophy behind the image of mainstream hip-hop. After listening to the first minute of the first single "In Da Club", it's a given that Bacardi and Mercedez Benz increased their sales for that year. He follows that formula of selling your own culture plus helping a company sell a product equals big checks and big success. Not only did he sell over ten million records with his Get Rich or Die Tryin' album, but he let the big name companies know Ð'- he means business.

And this is precisely the problem. Not only do I see advertisements everywhere else in American culture, but now I have to sit and listen to catch phrase commercials within the music I know and love. This affect has made me question everything about myself. I've been obsessed with the genre music since TLC's release of Crazy Sexy Cool, and since then I've become what many call a "Hip-Hop Head." At the time, I was 8 years old and highly susceptible to any message that came my way. Thankfully, TLC was one of those groups that wasn't caught up in the over excessive marketing campaign that targeted young music listeners like myself. So my foundation for quality, meaningful hip-hop music was always there. But as I grew into my teenage years, I found myself often imitating to the rappers I listened to on a subconscious level. I started wearing brand name clothing that was "acceptable" and even though I was too young to know anything about alcohol, I thought Hennessey and Bacardi were the two alcohols that I have to try first.

"The financial markets have certainly spoken. They have richly rewarded some media-company mergers and made stockholders-including journalists-happy folks," says Tom Goldstein in his article Big Media: Who Owns the News?. This same idea can be applied to the rap artists who get paid by the sponsors that endorse them. These artists are making millions off these companies who are mainly there to use the artist's image as a way to connect their product with his or her fan base. The sad thing is, when an artist talks about Glocks or Smith and Wessons like he is endorsing the product, confused kids buy into it.

When I got a little bit older, a littler bit smarter, and a little bit wiser, I started to question myself and my identity, as well as Hip-Hop and the identity portrayed within the mainstream media. It seemed as though everything had to have a hardcore exterior. To be understanding, sensitive, or romantic seemed to be weak, while credibility was earned by talking about guns, drugs, pimping women, and dirty money. In an article regarding two underground DVDs called Straight Outta Hunters Point and Hood 2 Hood, Darren Keast put this idea best, "The storytellers are driven by the same motivation Ð'- proving that their block is the hardest, and that they are the hardest on the block." This is precisely what is portrayed in most mainstream rap Ð'- a market flood of bragging and boasting about doing illegal or despicable activities.

Yet, I see today's youth confused. You are not respected if you are not outfitted in the latest gear, or up to date with the latest brand. And because of this, up in coming rappers and music makers tailor their own music to fit this philosophy without even being paid by the brands that they promote. Case in point, an underground, unsigned rapper named Young Byrd Man can be found holding a Nike shoe on a picture of his Myspace, not knowing that kid's who follow him will go and buy those shoes because of the image he portrays. And Nike does not sponsor him, or pay him. Sounds like a great business deal, doesn't it?

Now you may think that all this commercialism is wrong, but it's not. In fact, it's only logical Ð'- sell what you have to get what you want. Everybody does it, especially within the capitalistic society we live in. The problem is artists losing their substance to a marketing scheme. New groups like The Pack are prime examples of this flash in the pan trend, and this is why they don't stick around or have a strong following. Based on their first single, their audience knows them as the four