Nas & Ms. Lauryn Hill
If hip hop should die before I wake/ I'll put an extended clip inside of my AK/ Roll to every station, murder the DJ/Roll up to every station, murder the DJ…
---Nas, “Hip Hop is Dead”
In recent years, critics, fans and artists alike have lamented the turning tide in hip hop. It is commercially successful, it is the voice of a generation and it is the world’s music—all positive things. But, despite its diverse audience, it often seems like the artists themselves are not as diverse. How often have we read this bio: said emcee was raised in the projects, hustled drugs to make ends meet, got shot, learned his life lesson and pursued music as an alternative? How many times can we hear about rim size, candy paint, big booties and pushing weight? How many more rap videos will be shot around a pool filled with half-naked women? Hip hop can make you dance, yes. But can it make you think? What happened to the days when rappers had distinctly different personalities and styles? Has hip hop just become a parody of itself?
These are the kinds of questions up for debate on the Nas’ newest album Hip Hop is Dead. And who better to stir up debate than the man most consider one of the top five emcees in the history of the game? From his brilliant 1994 debut Illmatic, to his mainstream success with It Was Written, to anthems like “Hate Me Now” and “One Mic” and his venomous lyricism on “Ether,” Nas’ ability to tell stories, educate, make you dance—and make you look—is the stuff of rap legend.
And while Nas might enjoy the finer things in life like all of us, he’s not afraid to tackle subjects like self-empowerment, love, the importance of education and being aware of world issues. Musically, he’ll get down and dirty with DJ Premier, ride an R&B beat with Trackmasters or bridge the gap jazz-style with his pops Olu Dara. It is this artistic diversity that Nas hopes will influence the next generation of emcees. “There’s so many cocaine dealing rappers and so-called selling drug niggas,” Nas says, exasperatedly, “I’m like where ya’ll selling this at? People don’t know there’s so much more you can talk about.”
Enter Hip Hop is Dead. The seventh studio album for the kid, it is a chance for Nas to expound on the state of his beloved hip hop. The searing title track, produced by Will.i.Am, sets up Nas’ worst nightmare—that hip hop is erased from the earth. It is an indictment and warning to all the labels and fans and DJs who are complacent and not challenging the art form. Without being preachy or jaded, Nas also takes a trip down Memory Lane to reminisce about his love for hip hop in “Can’t Forget About You”, a jazz inspired track from Will.i.Am. Nas says the song, which features a touch of the classic “Unforgettable” by Nat King Cole, inspired him because of its evergreen relevance. “People who are 70, 80 years old know it and people who are 7 years old can get to know it, so it was just right up my alley. It was one of those stellar moments.”
Nas also hooked up with a number of West Coast pioneers. For “QB OG”, Nas reunited with his Firm biz partner, Dr. Dre and is joined on the track by the latest West Coast phenom, The Game. Bigging up both Queens and Compton, Nas and Game’s voices meld so perfectly, you’d think they’d been rhyming together for years. “Play on Player” finds Nas relaxing Cali style alongside Snoop on a melodic track by Scott Storch. “I wanted to do stuff like a record with Snoop, bridge that gap with East Coast and West like on such a level you know? I wanted to do the things that I did on this record just to do something different from my last record, stuff I've never done and stuff I wanted to do.”
One of the most anticipated and talked about tracks on the album is “Black Republican,” the first ever collabo with Nas’ former rival Jay-Z. Produced by one of Nas’ longtime beatmasters, L.E.S., the track is anthemic, authoritative and everything fans have hoped to hear. About the union, Nas says with a smile, “This is Ali and Frazier, this is Ali and Foreman, this is Ali and Ali, you know?”
With Hip Hop is Dead, Nas has once again challenged the sonic norms, experimented with an eclectic group of producers and collaborated with artists that he’s never worked with before. He plays the “black militant” on “Black Republican” the nostalgic sage on “Can’t Forget About You” and the inspirational teacher on Kanye West’s track, “Let There be Light,” and still gets down with “Brazilian dimes” on Hip Hop is Dead. Some might say he’s unfocused, but in reality, he’s showing us just how diverse rap can be.
And that hip hop is still very much alive. - islanddefjam.com
About Ms. Lauryn Hill:
Fugees' female third ruled the R&B and pop worlds in 1999, and in a flash, by her choice, she was gone.
Call Lauryn Hill the mother of hip-hop invention; with her 1998 solo debut The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill, the Fugees' most vocal member not only established herself as creative force on her own, but also broke new ground by successfully integrating rap, soul, reggae, and R&B into her own sound. Raised in South Orange, NJ, Hill spent her youth listening her parents' multi-genre, multi-generational record collection.
She began singing at an early age, and was soon snagging minor roles on television (As the World Turns) and in film (Sister Act II: Back in the Habit). Her on-again, off-again stint in the Fugees began at the age of 13, but was often interrupted by both the acting gigs and her enrollment at Columbia University.
After developing a following in the tri-state area, the group's first release -- the much-hyped but uneven Blunted on Reality -- bombed, almost causing a breakup. But with the multi-platinum The Score, the Fugees (and especially the camera-friendly Hill) achieved international success, though some pundits took shots at their penchant for cover songs.
That criticism made Miseducation even more of a surprise. Hill wrote, arranged, or produced just about every track on the album, which is steeped in her old-school background, both musically (the Motown-esque singalong of "Doo Wop (That Thing)") and lyrically (the nostalgic "Every Ghetto, Every City").
As Miseducation began a long reign on the charts through most of the fall and winter of 1998 -- initially thanks to heavy buzz and overwhelming radio support for "Doo Wop (That Thing)" -- Hill became a national media icon, as magazines ranging from Time to Esquire to Teen People vied to put her on the cover. By the end of the year, as the album topped virtually every major music critic's best-of list, she was being credited for helping fully assimilate hip-hop into mainstream music.
(Such an analysis, however, is lightweight at best: Hip-hop had been a huge force on the sales and radio fronts for most of the decade, and rappers Jay-Z, DMX, and Outkast had dropped similarly lauded LPs prior to or just after Miseducation's release, adding to the genre's dominant sales for the year). The momentum finally culminated at the February 1999 Grammy awards, during which Hill took home five trophies from her 11 nominations, including Album of the Year, Best New Artist, Best Female R&B Vocal Performance, Best R&B Song, and Best R&B Album; the most ever for a woman.
Shortly after, she launched a highly praised national tour with Atlanta rappers Outkast. Hill also faced a lawsuit from two musicians who claim they were denied full credit for their work on the album.
In an interesting twist, Hill's album proved to be such a commercial and critical success that it shed doubt on the Fugees' future. Their in-fighting became common knowledge, and matters were complicated when many fans interpreted Miseducation's various anti-stardom rants as a public dissing of co-Fugee Wyclef Jean.
She did continue shaping her solo career. The double-disc MTV Unplugged No.
2.0 appeared in spring 2002, showcasing a deeply personal performance from Hill. ~ Brian Raftery.