Hip-Hop to a Higher Degree

Elements of hip-hop culture are popping up in lecture halls across the U.S.

by: Patia Braithwaite

Though it is over 30 years old, it still remains cool. It moves effortlessly from upscale Hollywood parties to urban street corners. It paints, it writes, it composes and dances. Its art moves all races, ages and genders—it is universal.

As hip-hop celebrates its 30^th birthday, it is beginning to infiltrate yet another arena: academics.

Though hip-hop is a subculture often associated solely with music, it is actually rather diverse. In the mis ’70s graffiti, scratching, and break dancing were wildly popular. However, as hip-hop music becomes more mainstream and other elements become covert, many scholars are beginning to recognize that the overlooked elements are worth some academic attention.

SCRATCHING IN SCHOOL

Anyone who has ever tried to DJ by defiling a record while it spun innocently on a turntable knows that there is a science to scratching. Kembrew McLeod, 34, a gangly professor at the University of Iowa and authority on turntablism, understands this science.

Hailed a turntable historian in hip-hop circles, McLeod has written several books on copyright infringement and intellectual property law. Because DJs take samples from other songs to create new works, his expertise in law and turntablism are somewhat intertwined.

 “The name turntablist sprung up in the late ’90s as a way of legitimizing what the DJ does,” McLeod said.  “The way a keyboardist uses a keyboard, a turntablist uses a turntable.”

 Still, McLeod said many DJs reject the title of turntablist, preferring to distinguish between two types of DJs.

“Club DJs just mix songs together, but scratch DJs isolate small portions of a sound,” McLeod said. “They turn a sound into something else, creating something new.”

Just as club DJs are essential to every Saturday night partygoer, scratch DJs are essential to a rapper. Before the dawn of technology-driven producers, DJs would cut, scratch and sample sounds from other songs to create a new melody. These DJs were also essential because most rappers did not have the funds to tour with live bands. At concerts the DJ would act as an orchestra, playing the instrumental an MC rhymed over.

Although “scratching” is a talent most do not possess, many still claim that melodies in rap songs are unoriginal because they are derived from other songs. McLeod vehemently disagrees. He cited many works in popular culture where artists have “sampled” previous works, including entire passages in T.S Elliot’s, “The Wastelands,” with themes borrowed from the Bible and medieval folklore.

“Wood Guthrie’s song, ‘This Land is your Land’ borrows its entire melody from previous songs, more so than Puff Daddy ever did,” McLeod said. “To think that because hip-hop is unoriginal because it uses preexisting sounds is a simplistic way to look at art and culture in general.”

 Berklee College of Music in Boston has gone further than McLeod in the quest to have scratching recognized as a legitimate art form. At Berkelee, the first college to introduce jazz into its curriculum, students are able to study turntablism first-hand. The course, introduced in spring 2004, allows students to use the turntable as a traditional instrument. Classrooms are equipped with intricate turntables, and Professor Stephen Webber, who teaches the course, is the first person to apply musical notations to turntable sounds.

“People take it for granted today that jazz is serious music worthy of the same disciplined study as classical music,” said Webber in a press release. “But when Berklee began teaching jazz improvisation in the 1940s and rock guitar in the 1960s, most other music schools perceived those musical forms as a threat to ‘serious’ music. It’s the same situation with hip-hop and turntablism today.”

GRAFFITI GRADUATES

Depending on whom you ask, that vibrant splash of lines and colors gleaming on buildings are more than some teenager’s act of public vandalism. Some say those colors are works of art.

Graffiti is an urban form of expression that emerged from Philadelphia in the late 1970s. In most cases, a person creates an alias, and paints (or tags) his name on various public places. As the urban popularity of graffiti fades, its value as traditional art is beginning to emerge. For instance, at University of California at Berkeley , a student can learn about graffiti, and get one credit closer to graduation in the process.

“Urban Art Decal,” is part of a student-run department that allows students receive credit in courses that interest them.

“I wanted to introduce the art form to everyone and anyone possible,” said Michel Krimper, a student facilitator of the Berkley course. “I think people within the academic environment sometimes feel a stigma from what is sometimes considered to be ‘street culture.’ The two realms of culture are separated as if they weren’t part of the same world. These boundaries need to be shut down in order to encourage more communication in our surrounding neighborhoods.”

“Urban Art Decal” is wildly popular course that draws in the interest of hundreds of students each semester. Though it is primarily a practical course, Urban Art Decal also explores the societal influences of graffiti.  Kimper and David Yaun (another student facilitator) discuss traditional graffiti and its transition into popular culture. By creating that framework for the students, they can begin teaching the practical side of graffiti.

“Urban art right now is at a very critical point in time, where it is slowly being enveloped by the marketing culture at large, making it a homogenized, boring, unthreatening, yet aesthetically pleasing form of expression,” Krimper said. “Because of this critical point in the subculture’s development, we figured the only way to show the energy and genuine empowerment of the art form was to practice it ourselves.”

Krimper, a firm believer in freedom of interpretation, tries to incorporate guest speakers into the course as well. He feels that the diversity of voice is important to the art form.

“Everyone comes in with their own perspectives and reasons,” he said. This is why we encourage guest speakers who offer different perspectives, or the necessity for our students to only look at our stories as one part of the story.”

Each class begins with instructions on new forms and styles of graffiti. Though Krimper describes the course as “laid back,” there is a midterm assignment that is required. Students are split into groups and must work on an urban art piece to submit. Krimper believes that by having the students work in groups, he allows them to communicate and help one another.

In addition to the midterm, the class meets on Sundays to paint. Although graffiti is often attributed to vandalism, Krimper pointed out that Sunday painting sessions “are at legal spots, of course.”

Krimper said his “practical goals” are to help students understand that graffiti is an art form worthy of analysis, and to create an environment where students will truly come to love and “obsess over” urban art.

FROM THE BRONX TO BERKELEY

Though break dancing can be traced back to clubs like Studio 54, it truly gained momentum on the streets of the South Bronx . The edgy urban dance began in clubs when dancers would simulate the sounds a DJ would make during his performance. However b-boying gained popularity in the South Bronx where gang culture and break dancing began to intertwine. Since its birth, break dancing has gained great popularity. It has traveled overseas, made its mark on US popular culture, and at UC Berkeley, inexperienced students examine and treat it with the respect its legacy demands.

“We want to give people understanding of b-boying,” said Michael Im, 21, coordinator of the course. “For instance, we try to emphasize that b-boying isn’t about doing gymnast moves and such, but dancing. Basically, [we teach this class] to help build the b-boying/hip-hop community on campus.”

Im and Kenneth Kong, 20, are the student facilitators of a Berkeley course called “B-boying 101: Intro to Breaking.” The class started off as a workshop, and offers one credit in Berkeley’s Department of Theater, Dance and Performance Studies.

“Our course is capped at 40 students, and we had over 80 students e-mail us showing interest each semester,” Im said. “So, we ended up having to do auditions.” But instead of turning additional students away, Im and Kong allow interested students to take the course without credit.

The auditions feature a short routine that consists of basic foot work. At the end of the audition is a freestyle session so that Im and Kong can assess each student’s comfort in front of a crowd.

“Almost everyone that auditioned didn’t have prior experience; we just looked for willingness to learn and effort,” Im said.

Though most of the students lack breaking experience, this is not a casual dancing course. It would be a mistake to think that this one-credit break dancing class does not involve hard work and dedication. Most of the learning and reinforcement comes from work done outside of the classroom.

“A typical class would start of with warm-ups, a few new dance steps, a few new footwork sets, and a freeze or two,” Im said. “Then we’ll also teach more complicated sets that string together moves that we teach in class. We also try to give mini-lectures on b-boy history and culture; we pass out handouts to the students—the reading is somewhat required. Other than that, homework is to just practice.”

Keeping true to the competitive nature of break dancing, Kong and Im have devised a way of injecting b-boy culture into the instruction. Historically break dancers ran the town in groups called “crews.” When they would encounter a rival crew, they would battle each other, often dancing atop pieces of cardboard in the street.

“We changed the format of the class this semester so that the class is broken into four ‘crews,’” Im said. “So after teaching as a class, we break into our respective crews to learn on a smaller/group format. It was our attempt to communicate and get to know the students more. However, breaking is inherently competitive and we do try to show that.”

Though Im and Kong do not get paid to teach this course they are able to receive one credit toward graduation. However, Kong did not sign up to receive the credit.

“More than anything, it’s just our way to share what we like to do, and since we know there is a large audience for our class we try to get as many people involved as possible,” Im said. “Hopefully, the students will continue or come just practice with us after they finish the course.”