With the rise of new forms and genres of music, there is a subsequent culture to follow, whether colossal or minuscule. These cultures are made up of artists and fans, producers and merchandise, hierarchies and minorities. Each culture emerges in its own unique way and within these origins emerges the authenticity of that particular genre. In the case of Hip hop, there are no exceptions. Inevitably identities, gender, and race engulf the hip hop genre and mold its past present and future forms; a constant flux in performativity. So how does one construct and perform this image of “hip hop”? It is not only necessary to explore the performative aspects of hip hop but it is also essential to understand the history of this genre in order to grasp how these performative elements have been constructed over time. Initially the query presents itself as: why is the performativity of hip hop so crucial to this genre? This paper will thus examine how performing authenticity, in relation to whiteness, has been constructed and why this has become such a key concept in hip hop culture.
Performativity often focuses on the representation of “the self” within society, whether consciously or subconsciously. It is an underlying factor in how people shape their identities and relationships with others. Performativity, without a doubt, has a very strong impact on hip hop as a whole. This subject of study is placed within the domain of Performance studies. Yet one must note that performance and performativity are two separate, yet co-relating subjects of study. For instance, Performance studies may focus on literal forms of performance, such as dance, theatre, rituals, acting, and musical performances, whereas performativity, as stated above, is focused on the representation of “the self” throughout everyday life, often exploring the concepts of how and why people perform their perceived identities and in what context, in relation to interactions, environments, and specific situations. Erving Goffman, one of the original contributing scholars in the development of performance studies, advocates that to strengthen the notion of performing the self, people develop what Goffman refers to as, “manner”. Goffman theorizes that “ “Manner” may be taken to refer to those stimuli which function at the time to warn us of the interaction role the performer will expect to play in the oncoming situation” (Goffman 24). Goffman asserts the example that an aggressive manner can give the impression that the performer expects to initiate verbal interaction and essentially control its course, just as a weak and apologetic manner would give the impression of passiveness, insinuating that the performer will follow the lead of others. Whether these actions are subconscious or conscious decisions plays a small role in this specific study. Inevitably hip hop culture is ripe with performances both literally and in the performative sense.
Just as one would perform “the self” differently when attending a formal event than talking amongst friends, there seems to be a set of performative guidelines that have developed through the history of hip hop. Thus, it is important to understand some of the key origins of hip hop and how it came about.
In the prelude to Jeff Chang’s book, Can’t Stop Won’t Stop: A History of the Hip-Hop Generation, DJ Kool Herc (having been attributed as the father of hip hop) establishes that Chang’s book “…is a nonfiction history of a fiction-a history, some mystery and certainly no prophecy. It’s but one version, this dub history-a gift from those who have illuminated and inspired… There are many more versions to be heard. May they all be” (Chang 3). In essence the roots of hip hop are rich in history, evolving and influenced from numerous events, the political rallies of the 60’s, issuing historical figures such as Malcolm X, Martin Luther King Jr. and even baseball player Reggie Jackson. Hip hop is also attributed to a wide variety of social and cultural issues of communities, individuals, and the streets. Chang’s book, and many others, such as Kate Burns’ book, Rap Music and Culture, comprised of a variety of scholars, credit and widely accept hip hop as being created in the Bronx during the 1970’s, establishing the key aspects of hip hop: DJ-ing, MC-ing, break dancing, and graffiti (Burns 32). Inevitably it is nearly impossible to place one specific influence on the creation of the hip hop genre, yet it is paramount to place emphasis on its origins and to grasp an understanding of hip hop’s historical accounts and its relationship to notable artists, performers, and events. This research then helps to primarily frame the historical study of hip hop. Through the study of hip hop’s origin one may begin to understand how the role of performativity has substantially impacted and continues to impact the evolution of the hip hop genre; directly constructing and re-constructing the hip hop image, something that will be further explored in latter of this paper.
Both Mickey Hess and Tricia Rose focus on racial involvement in accordance with performance and music. Hess’ article, “Hip-hop Realness and the White Performer”, focuses primarily on the integration of whites into the dominant black culture of hip hop, whereas Rose’s research, as seen in “Hidden Politics: Discursive and Institutional Policing of Rap Music”, focuses on the social discourse of rap and the spatial control of black people in conjunction with the music industry. Both of these scholars demonstrate how crucial the role of performing race becomes in the hip hop culture, through its difficulties and privileges. Hess heavily focuses on the involvement of white artists throughout hip hop’s history, however, he fails to touch on the particular integration of white fans into a predominantly black culture, something that is also overlooked by Rose. It is evident that white fandom does in fact play a very large role in the hip hop industry, thus, it becomes necessary to understand how the population of white fans are integrated into a black culture through performativity. It is essential to simply note that race does play an overwhelming role in hip hop culture, yet the specific focus of this paper will concentrate on the integration of whiteness into a predominantly black culture; challenging the perceived authenticity of this genre.
Posted in E. Whiteness on December 9th, 2009 by paul
Indeed, the implication of whiteness in this study becomes extremely prevalent in white attempts at hip hop authenticity. The role of the white hip hop artist challenges the main conceptions of a culture accepted as black. In its most basic form “Whiteness” is a term used to describe the performance of white identity, or lack thereof. The term is often attributed by many scholars such as Richard Dyer, in his article “White”, as a quality that is essentially absent, it is perceived as a norm, a natural way of being human (Dyer 141). This of course holds its advantages within western society, but as we will see, does not translate so easily in hip hop culture. Dyer suggests that, “…if the invisibility of whiteness colonizes the definition of other norms – class, gender, heterosexuality, nationality and so on – it also masks whiteness as itself a category” (Dyer 143). Thus, in comparison to the performative black culture of hip hop we begin to see whiteness in a contrasting manner. John T. Warren for example builds upon Dyers theory by attempting to study the physical representations of the white body, in his article “The Social Drama of a ‘Rice Burner’: A (Re)Constitution of Whiteness”. Warrens intriguing article pushes the boundaries of the rhetorical boundaries of the whiteness in an attempt to construct a finer definition of physical attributes through the particular use of ‘talk’ functioning as a performance: a stylized repetition of acts (Warren 189). This theory outlines that “…whiteness ultimately gains power through the invoking of racism, no matter who enacts it” (Warren 198). At first glance, this statement may seem radical but will used to demonstrate the subtleties of talk used to reinforce and construct forms of whiteness, through particular studies of Eminem, Vanilla Ice and a variety of other white artists such as the Beastie Boys and Ben Folds.
Gilbert B. Rodman’s article, “Race…and Other Four Letter Words: Eminem and the Cultural Politics of Authenticity” and Jon B. Martin and Gust A. Yep’s study, “Eminem in Mainstream Public Discourse: Whiteness and the Appropriation of Black Masculinity” highlight the complimentary importance of whiteness and authenticity, allowing white hip hop artists to seamlessly cross cultural borders in order to assume an identity as an ‘other’. In doing so, Eminem is able to position himself as “White Trash”, a crucial point in constructing his authentic identity.
While performing identity, race, and whiteness are key aspects in the way in which hip hop is performed, these three categories lead to and in turn all relate and focus on a crucial purpose: the authenticity of hip hop. It is interesting to note that in nearly every source used in this paper authenticity is has been brought into question. Thus, there is an inevitably query of what is accepted as an authentic performance, whether in a literal performance or performing the self in everyday life. This concept of authenticity occurs even more often in the context of hip hop; something that will be demonstrated in the historical analysis of this genre. It is crucial in succeeding to perform the hip hop image, authenticity is always under examination, particularly in relation to whiteness, which we will see directly challenges this concept.
The importance of authenticity is a focal point to Hess’ article, “Hip-hop Realness and the White Performer”, and Michael Albrecht’s “Acting Naturally Unnaturally: The Performative Nature of Authenticity in Contemporary Popular Music”. Hess focuses on how one goes about performing hip hop as authentic, asserting imitations of the hip hop culture will simply not work. Hess pulls examples from popular artists such as Vanilla Ice and Eminem to theorize how white culture performs and integrates themselves into the hip hop genre. In addition, Albrecht conveys how authenticity is originated and is implicated by “showing doing” which consists of underling, pointing to, and displaying doing/performing (Albrecht 380). Albrecht uses particular examples such as Dr. Dre, and Ben Folds, classified as an alternative rock musician, who covers/parodies Dr. Dre’s song “Bitches Ain’t Shit”. Albrecht uses this controversial case to emphasize how embracing the songs artifice can be used for authentication of an artist, concluding that performances are capable of blurring the distinction between the artificial and the authentic (Albrecht 394). It is interesting to see how Eminem and even Vanilla Ice play off this concept to create/re-construct their own authentic identities.
These particular theorists establish the importance of performing authenticity in hip hop, particularly in the form of a white artist. This in turn outlines the dire need to perform authenticity in flux with whiteness, a critical argument in this study, which becomes the basis for this paper.
To begin, this research has been examined through a historiographical analysis and a qualitative discourse analysis of a variety of media texts. The historiography approach is used to guide this study on analysis and interpretations of historical events that have constructed and guided the role of authenticity in hip hop culture. This is used to underline and establish the overall importance that authenticity has played and continues to play in this particular culture, for example the successes and failures of authenticity and how it can directly foster or hinder commercial success. Thus, in studying the historical origins of hip hop, a higher understanding of political, economic, and social conditions unveils the significance of authenticity of the artist in relation to succeeding in the hip hop industry, directly pertaining to the immersion of whiteness in a black culture.
Once the importance of the historiographical analysis has been developed, this study goes on to develop a critical analysis of media discourse. This method is used to study, critique, and compare a variety of media texts regarding white hip hop artists in relation to performative theories/ideologies of power, whiteness, race and authenticity. It is then important to study a variety of both early and present relevant mainstream material. This approach is used to display cases of success and failure in order to illuminate how authenticity and whiteness co-exist and to determine how claims of authenticity are made within hip hop culture.
Previously stated, Kate Burns’ book, Rap Music and Culture, is made up of a variety of articles from different scholars and authors, examining the roots of hip hop. This book exemplifies the historical interpretations and studies of hip hop’s history. Making one question, which is the true depiction? This of course is impossible to answer, as mentioned by DJ Kool Herc, hip hop is essentially a nonfiction of a fiction (Chang 3); a genre constructed by a variety of information and facts that have been reinterpreted and critiqued to a large degree. So to pin point the exact ‘origins’ would only be a reinterpretation of someone else’s interpretation: futile. So to begin, we will look at a variety of aforementioned and widely accepted “facts”. First of all hip hop is attributed to being created in the Bronx during the 1970’s, establishing the four key pillars of hip hop: DJ-ing, MC-ing, break dancing, and graffiti (Burns 32). As Joseph Schloss notes, “Although the concept of hip-hop as popular music is commonplace now, it was far from self-evident that such a thing would emerge. It is often forgotten that hip-hop existed as a culture and performance context for at least five years (1974-1979) before it became a genre of popular music” (Schloss 5). By attributing much of the history to the Bronx and the given time period we already know that hip hop was born within a lower class black majority society, based on performativity.
In Burns’ book, Todd Boyd, a black professor that grew up in the 70’s, recalls hearing “Rapper’s Delight”, by the Sugarhill Gang, for the first time on the radio. This was something new, he claims, something to distinguish his musical taste from the masses fixated on Michael Jackson (Burns 23). Although Boyd did not grow up in the Bronx, he was born in Detroit and has become well known for his work on race and particularly popular culture, specifically hip hop. Adopting the nickname “The Notorious Ph.D”, Boyd acknowledges that “For those who identify themselves with the mainstream, be they Black, White, or otherwise, hip hop is a pariah, something you want to get rid of because it attempts to tell the truth, in spite of the consequences that might accompany the telling of this truth” (Burns 24). Thus, proposed by Boyd, hip hop stands out as a genre based on truth, born out of the hardships of the Bronx. This concept works as a form of speaking out to address issues of social, economic, and political power. This precise concept is noted by Haugen, “That these rappers choose to be and can be, so audacious and skillful is indicative of their verbal and, in the many diverse communities where this verbal art is valued, social power” (Haugen 440). If this is in fact the basis of the hip hop genre, then it would be pivotal to maintain this concept of ‘truth’/authenticity through both music/lyrics and imagery, both physical and mediated: magazine covers, videos etc. As Haugen notes, “…true to the nature of gangsta rap narratives, these stories need not be empirically “true”, they just need to be “verbalized… framings of a sequence of actual or possible life events” (19, emphasis added). That is, the stories told in gangsta rap narratives must be able to be true” (Haugen 430). Being said, throughout rap and hip hop music, truth and authenticity become a very strong factor in order to maintain and construct a successful career as an artist, even if the “truth” is embellished, just so long as it remains plausible and portrayed honestly. Of course in order to do this an artist must consider how to portray their work honestly, thus it is presented just as it was created, as a form of black culture born out of oppression and adversity. In relation to this theme, Gilbert Rodman remarks that “Critically successful rappers, after all, typically have to establish that they have an “authentic” connection to “street life” and/or “the hood,” and they will often justify the violent themes, drug references, and profane language in their music as honest reflections of the real-life environments from whence they came” (Rodman 105). Rodman makes the direct link that successful hip hop artists will authenticate themselves through their own history, almost as a rite of passage.
This outlines the distinct roles many influential hip hop artists have had on the genre, from DJ Kool Herc to Dr. Dre to Snoop Dog. These artists experienced and maintained the authentic history which determines the truth of an artist, and continuously presented this authentic history through their associations, private life, imagery, and music. Yet what happens when a white person enters the equation? All of a sudden this equation of a minority race, faced with adversity, with a history to back it up does not add up. Simply put, in terms of colour (and history), white is a direct contrast to black, there is no covering up whiteness. Enter Robert Van Winkle.
Robert Van Winkle, born October 31st 1967, came from a well-off middle class family and spent the majority of his teen years in the Dallas Suburbs. He attended R.L. Turner High School in Carrollton and had a knack for break dancing and rapping (Hess 373). After attaining a large amount of hype through performing in local night clubs, Winkle was signed to Ichiban Records, performing under the name: Vanilla Ice. Ice began a modest and successful career, producing a variety of recognizable hits such as: “Play That Funky Music (White Boy)” and “Ice Ice Baby”. Expectedly, Ice was often criticized for his obvious and outcaste white status in a hip hop culture. None-the-less he progressed, and deserves credit for it, he often played off of the black narratives of hip hop, claiming his authenticity through references to the street and adversary, the typical themes of hip hop and rap culture. This worked well enough; although he was not the first white artist of hip hop, he did deliberately address his whiteness, especially through his name and the previous mentioned songs, yet he never dwelled too deep into this media emphasized ideology. Inevitably, Ice was paving the way for aspiring white artists while at the same time marketing whiteness and immersing white fans into a black culture where white is the minority (Hess 3723). Unfortunately all of this abruptly ceased with the inspection of Ice’s official biography, Ice by Ice: The Vanilla Ice Story in His Own Words, written by his Manager Tommy Quon. This book made false claims in an attempt to play up the ‘historical authentic truths’ of a wide variety of black artists. The biography made claims of an urban upbringing, gang affiliations, street life in lower class Miami neighborhoods, attending Miami’s Palmetto High, claims that simply where not true. Once this information was leaked Ice’s hopes of a successful hip hop career came to an abrupt end. Ice had sold out. Failed attempts were made by his manager, Tommy Quon, to authentic these issues by remarking Ice “could have been well-off, but maybe he chose to go to the street and learn his trade…it may not be true that he grew up in the ghetto—but maybe he spent a lot of time there” (Perkins 1A). This example accentuates how authenticity can literally make or break a career, especially for a white artist challenging the preconceived black majority of hip hop. In reflection to Vanilla Ice’s downfall, Hess remarks that “As notions of hip-hop authenticity have changed, white artists have moved from immersing themselves in a nascent music culture to imitating an explicit model of the black authentic, to inverting the narratives of black artists to frame their whiteness as a career disadvantage in a form that remains dominated by black artists” (Hess 375). This statement then positions the in-depth query: how can a white artist be successfully immersed into the black hip hop culture? The success story of Marshall Mathers helps to outline this question.
Marshall Mathers, born October 17th 1972, spent most of his teen years in Detroit Michigan. He came from a lower-class family and lived with his mom; they spent most of his child hood moving through economically disadvantage areas. Mathers repeatedly failed the ninth grade and eventually dropped out of high school (Martin 229). Like Ice, Mathers too had a knack for rap and hip hop. In 1997 he won the Los Angeles Rap Olympics, subsequently catching the eye and support of producer and rapper Dr.Dre.
As outlined, authenticity plays a driving force in what is generally perceived as a black culture. It is hard to argue that hip hop was not derived from black culture, and thus the genre is essentially made up of black traditions, and black performativity. This genre in itself holds its own expectations of black artists and fans to meet a very recognizable, if not stereotypical image. But it is through these performative actions that make hip hop culture so recognizable. Hence the addition of white people, most notably white artists, becomes an inevitable clash of the races.
…racial identity remains a deep structure that guides our social experiences.
In the face of shifting definitions of what makes a person “white,” there still exist social constructs of whiteness, as with all racial classifications, that individuals carry with them. Hip-hop’s representations of whites’ privilege leads to mistrust of any white artist who performs within a music culture created in underprivileged minority communities, a culture where authenticity remains tied to the performer’s biography of social disadvantage (Hess 381).
Indeed there is much to be said of the integration of white audiences and fandom into the hip hop genre, but to highlight the most direct struggle of integrating whiteness into black culture, it is more appropriate for this study to focus on the immersion of white artists into a mainstream setting.
As noted by many theorists, perhaps best described by Dyer, “No one would deny that, at the very least, there are advantages to being white in western society…” (Dyer 143). This of course becomes problematic when a white artist enters into a black genre, especially a black genre that has been used to a large degree as a tool of liberation, a struggle to find ones voice, and to make that voice heard. As Tricia Rose claims, “Rap’s poetic voice is deeply political in content and spirit, but rap’s hidden struggle, the struggle over access to public space, community resources and the interpretation of black expression, constitutes rap’s hidden politics” (Rose 403). Rose makes evident the political and power struggle that rap and hip hop often address and evolve from. This example of a genre with such a passion for cultural identity and racial tension demonstrates why it is easy to see how the acceptance of white culture can be very conflicting. Particularly, as Rose points out, rap is often understood as a symbolic voice of black urban males, which is often seen as a threat and “…reinforces dominant white middle-class objections to urban black youths who do not aspire to (but are haunted by) white middle-class standards” (Rose 397). Not only is the integration of whiteness directly opposing to hip hop culture, but it seems completely contradictory to the ideologies of race as well. This of course, is a drastic statement, but is used to construct a basic understanding of conflicting views. What is even more troubling is how a white person can attempt integration into black culture, when whiteness itself can hardly be defined.
What is Whiteness? How does society describe “being white”? It is interesting that in most societies the person being spoken of is assumed white unless otherwise stated. It is crucial to see white as a race, yet the work focused on whiteness generally agrees “…White identity and culture are signified as what is normal, invisible, and, for some, empty” (Cooks 246). White, however, is not a natural race, it is performed and constructed just like any other race, yet it often goes unnoticed, particularly by white people. In Leda Cooks study, “Pedagogy, Performance, and Positionality: Teaching about Whiteness in Interracial Communications”, she examines the relationship of her university class in context with calling into question White bodies, and marking them as a performance in relation to others. In her findings Cooks discovers that for some students, engaging with concepts of whiteness forced them to confront feelings of having no culture and no sense of place to develop their own identity (Cooks 253). In general, it is hard to theorize and construct a definition of whiteness when it is so often thought of as the invisible race. As Warren outlines, in regards to whiteness, “…[we are] trying to locate what it means to be unlocatable, to re-see what is never meant to be seen, and to mark a production meant to feel completely natural” (Warren 201). Can whiteness not be characterized by physical actions and performances, instead of lack thereof? This becomes problematic in relation to this study, yet none-the-less, it also becomes very essential. If whiteness is not definable as a single concept than perhaps whiteness is produced instead through the social interactions and engagements with other races. Enter Vanilla Ice.
As demonstrated, Vanilla Ice’s integration into hip hop failed. This of course was directly related to the downfall of his authenticity. He seemed to approach this immersion without strategy or consideration of his actions. In essence, Vanilla Ice was not accepted as an authentic hip hop artist and was rejected from mainstream hip hop culture. However, in doing so Vanilla Ice helped pave the way for engaging whiteness with another race. In doing so, he exposed his whiteness in direct contrast to black and hip hop culture. For the moment whiteness may be invisible, but it seems to be physically accessible when in conflict with more distinguishable races. Yet, is this the strategic conclusion of viewing and integrating whiteness into hip hop culture? By tossing it into the proverbial lion’s pen of another race? Of course not; whiteness adapts. Enter Marshall Mathers, Slim Shady, Eminem: White Trash.
The claim to authenticity is clearly a crucial role in this study and for white integration to occur in hip hop culture. As we’ve seen, Vanilla Ice was rejected from this culture, strictly do to his struggle with authenticity and crossing racial borders. One of the key concepts, which allows both artists and fans to entire into a black majority music genre, is ‘White Trash’. This initial step is very crucial.
In Albrecht’s article, Albrecht examines the southern country rock band, The Drive-By Truckers, to situate the concept of White Trash. Albrecht outlines the bands focus on performing and emphasizing their role as white working-class ‘rednecks’ (Albrecht 389). He then reiterates and furthers Richard Schechner’s concept of “doing” and “showing doing”. “Doing” is described as the actual act of performing, or literally just existing, whereas “showing doing” purposely points to the performance and displays the act of “doing”. The Drive-By Truckers essentially play off their identities in mediated performances by wearing plaid shirts, trucker hats, drinking whiskey on stage, performing under the Alabama state flag and introducing each band member from their small home towns from which they hail. (Albrecht 389). He then notes the band is not exploiting a stereotype but instead calling attention to it. “By pointing to their performance, the band performs their self awareness, and does so in an effort to separate themselves from the problematic relationship to a racial past that exists both through their identity as rural working-class white southerners and through the historical context of southern rock” (Albrecht 390), something extremely similar to Eminem’s performance as a rap artist.
Eminem, of course, plays off his ‘street’/urban inner-city image. Just like The Drive By-Truckers, Eminem uses this notion of “showing doing” to emphasis his otherness, or in other words: white trash. Warren defines white trash as a culture “…where white trash is constructed as a group of people who feel marginalized socially, racially, and culturally” (Warren 196). By presenting himself as an underprivileged person, Eminem is able to immerse himself into a minority culture. It is hard to imagine that if Eminem had come from a white middle-class family, his integration would have been as successful. Mind you, as Calhoun notes, “While he has had the backing and support of many influential African American rap artists, this is not the first time a white rap artist has had that support” (Calhoun 289). Did it help that Eminem had respected black artists supporting him, particularly Dr. Dre? Well of course it did. However, is this linked any more to his success as a white hip hop artist? Vanilla Ice had the support of Ice-T, but his career did not run as smoothly. Throughout Vanilla Ice’s span, “Hip-hop journalists bemoaned the popular success of artists like Vanilla Ice, whom they dismissed as a white poseur…” (Chang 425). Yet as we will see, although both Eminem and Vanilla Ice tackled the same concept of white trash in order to other themselves in a black culture where being white is the minority, Eminem maintained a focus on “showing doing”, whereas Ice did not. In Gilbert Rodman’s study, “Race…and Other Four Letter Words: Eminem and the Cultural Politics of Authenticity”, Rodman acknowledges that the main questions that critics ask about Eminem’s racial authenticity “…tell[s] us more about the racism of the culture in which Eminem operates then they do about Eminem himself. As was the case with Elvis before him, questions about Eminem’s racial authenticity perpetuate the larger culture’s tendency to reduce all racial politics to the level of the (stable, coherent, essentialized) individual” (Rodman 107). Problematic issues that Eminem cleverly and appropriately addresses. This can be seen in a variety of lyrics in Eminem’s songs, particularly in “The Way I Am” (2000),
And I just do not got the patience (got the patience)…/ to deal with these cocky Caucasians/ who think I’m some wigger/ who just tries to be black/ cause I talk with an accent/ and grab on my balls/ so they always keep askin’ the same fuckin’ questions (fuckin’ questions)../ What school did I go to/ what hood I grew up in/ The why/ the who /what/ when/ the where/ and the how/ ’til I’m grabbin’ my hair and I’m tearin’ it out…
Not to mention the main chorus of the song, “…I am, whatever you say I am/ If I wasn’t, then why would I say I am?” Eminem continuously draws attention to his blatant whiteness and white trash identity. Jon Martin and Gust Yep state, “[Eminem’s] whiteness allows him to cross cultural borders and assume the identity of “others.” By positioning himself as “White trash” he can disassociate from many of the privileges of Whiteness and claim oppression and hence a more authentic voice” (Martin 232). Eminem directly addresses and makes open the problematic stance of his race in a black culture, something Vanilla Ice did not achieve, essentially leading to his downfall. And this of course is just one instance, themes of being white come up in a variety of Eminem’s music, he also continuously pays homage to fellow rapper Dr. Dre in many mainstream hits such as “My Name Is” (1999), “The Real Slim Shady” (2000), and “Without Me” (2002), to name a few. He directly displays “showing doing”, drawing attention to his white performance in a black culture while often acknowledging that already respected Dr. Dre, whom greatly supported Eminem’s career. Through these specific techniques Eminem is able to cross racial borders in a way Vanilla Ice never could. With this in mind, Eminem acts as a gateway, ushering in white fans by making himself heard as an authentic artist through his history and by directly emphasizing his own race. He essentially sets an example for where authentic whiteness fits within hip hop culture, making it much more accessible for a white audience.
In Philip Auslander’s article, “Liveness: Performance in a Mediatized Culture”, Auslander asserts that historically that authenticating a performance can be broken down into three phases, first live performance authenticated audio recordings, then with the introduction of the music video, the video began to authenticate recordings, and finally the live performance now authenticates the video (Auslander 106). Although this theory holds merit, perhaps it deserves a closer examination. In a society that is so heavily exposed to media, it easy to see how a music video may actually authenticate the live performance/performer, or perhaps, for many, the music video is much more accessible than live performances, thus it should not be undermined. In many cases it is the music video a fan is first exposed to before a live performance, and thus it is understandably tempting to judge whether or not the performance can match the success of the video; something to take into consideration. For instance, let us look at Dr. Dre’s song, “Bitches Ain’t Shit” (1992), released on the 1992 album: The Chronic.
Without passing too much judgment, it is fair to say the lyrics, much like the title of the song, are not exactly family friendly. The chorus: “Bitches ain’t shit/ but hoes and tricks/Lick on deez nuts and suck the dick/Get’s the fuck out after you’re done/And I hops in my ride to make a quick run…” which continues onto a variety of verses such as: “…While you’re chillin’ with your homies and shit/And how my niggaz kick the anthem like this/ BEEEYYAAACHHH!…” Now imagine a live performance where a modest white rapper covers this song in front of a hip hop audience, chances are it may not hold the same authentic validity that one would expect when sung by Dr. Dre, and featuring Snoop Dog, Daz, Kurupt, and Jewell. Yet, in a video, this could play on some very ironic, performative, and ideological issues coming from a white person. Inevitably, white hip hop artist and songwriter Ben Folds did just that.
Ben Folds’ cover of “Bitches Ain’t Shit” takes an obvious humorous approach to the song, performing it word by but in a very emotional and intimate manner. Throughout the course of the video, Folds performs in front of a variety of green screened backgrounds, streaming a variety of videos such as 50’s house wives and families, white senators, The Beatles’ yellow submarine, and even Sesame Street. If you do not listen to the lyrics, the song is actually quite soothing and much less of a hardcore gangsta rap. This is an instance where an artist uses parody, pointing out his own artifice, constructing his own authentic identity which definitely performs whiteness. In this case the video authenticates the performer while pointing to the earlier mentioned concept discussed in this paper that: by socially engaging with other races, attempting to define whiteness becomes much more obtainable. In fact, in direct relation to this video, Albrecht theorizes that both Dr. Dre and Folds are performing separate authenticities,
Folds is performing the “artificial” authenticity of the hipster, while Dre is performing his “true” authenticity. However, the former is privileged above the latter, as Folds is able to temporarily inhabit an identity thought his performance— enact a mobile subjectivity— while Dre is only able to perform a rigid conception of self as it manifests in the urban African American experience (Albrecht 388).
As outlined, parody can act as a tactic in claiming authenticity. And although it may not be as drastic to Folds’ claim to authenticity, Eminem approaches a form of parody in a similar manner.
In songs such as “Without Me” (2005), there is a definite playful element in the form of lyrics and music video which blurs the line between a serious artist and a parody. Hess theorizes that for Eminem “… [He] not only makes himself conspicuously white, but also shows a critical attention to hip hop’s representations of white privilege…He works to diffuse his listeners’ rejection of a white artist by anticipating their arguments…” (Hess 382). For instance:
Now this looks like a job for me/ So everybody/ just follow me/ Cause we need a little controversy/ Cause it feels so empty without me/… No I’m not the first king of controversy /I am the worst thing since Elvis Presley /to do black music so selfishly /and used it to get myself wealthy /(Hey!!) There’s a concept that works /Twenty million other white rappers emerge/
In doing so Eminem touches on Goffman’s concept of “manner”, Eminem directly uses his performance in order to evoke a specific response that he wishes to obtain. (Goffman 6). This shows that “When an individual or performer plays the same part to the same audience on different occasions, a social relationship is likely to arise. Defining social role as the enactment of rights and duties attached to a given status…” (Goffman 24). Thus, Eminem anticipates the rejection of others and brings into the limelight any attacks against him. Without directly insulting himself, Eminem uses humour to provoke the response of authentic believability as a white artist.
In a song like “Without Me” it is evident that even as a writer Eminem is not out to take himself 100 percent seriously. Something that becomes even more noticeable in his music video. The majority of the video for this song shows Eminem dressed up as a costumed superhero, resembling DC’s “Robin”. Not to mention Eminem as a fat version of Elvis attempting to break dance, and most notably, Eminem ‘rockin out’ beside a sly Dr. Dre in a fashion that resembles something more similar to that of Will Ferrill and Chris Kattan in the film A Night at the RoxBury (1998). Yet, as Calhoun notes, although Eminem’s humour is perhaps edgy and explicit, it fits the genre. Essentially he uses humour to avoid losing ground in persuading a black genre of his authenticity as another marginalized subject, thus it is necessary for him to acknowledge, and at times, poke fun at his own whiteness and to make sure he does not fully embrace a dominant subject position in a culture where he remains a minority. Calhoun summarizes that Eminem’s performance of parody and as white male artist “…pay homage to the recognizable cultural traditions of rap music. And they work because they allow him to point to the fiction of himself as a rapper while still constructing his own identity in the language and tradition of rap authenticity” (Calhoun 274).
Perhaps if Vanilla Ice took on the same notions of performing authenticity his career as a hip hop artist may have been more successful, even though there are few remnants of these themes within his work. Take for instance Vanilla Ice’s memorable appearance in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: Secret of the Ooze (1991) and his performance of the “Ninja Rap”.
Essentially the Ninja Turtles barge into a night club during the middle of the climactic fight scene where Vanilla Ice and his crew happen to be performing. Upon the entry of the masked turtles, Vanilla turns to his band, gives them ‘the signal’ (a twirl of the finger) and just like that, the “Ninja Rap” is instantly born, freestyling lyrics such as: “YO! it’s the green machine–gonna rock the town without bein’ seen/ have you ever seen a turtle Get Down?/… Go Ninja, Go Ninja, GO/ Go Ninja, Go Ninja, GO!” This may not have saved Vanilla Ice’s career, but during his mainstream success from 1990-1991, this highlighted the lighter side of the artist which was not often seen. This was a rare instance where Vanilla Ice did not take his role as a hip hop artist as serious, mirroring some the humorous and parody based media put out by Eminem. Ice, however, did not utilize this strategy as successfully as Eminem, never fully addressing or staying one step ahead of critiques regarding and questioning his whiteness as Eminem has done. This is not to say that Vanilla Ice’s career is over, for those who are not aware, at the present time of this paper, Vanilla Ice still continues to tour and produce music, yet his style is focused more towards a darker rock-based, but hip hop influenced, combination. Never- the-less, posted by a fan on the forum of Vanilla Ice’s official website on October 23rd 2009, was his general set list for his 2009/2010 tour, featuring the song “Ninja Rap 2” (Michael). This song directly makes light of Ice’s original “Ninja Rap” which was produced during the height of his popularity. The song blasts lyrics such as, “Go Ninja Go Ninja Go, what what/ Ninja Ninja what what/ Ninja ninja, what what/ What is the ninja ninja rap, baby you don’t know/ Remix it old school but you don’t know/ The people call me VI but you don’t know/Still lettin it flo baby you don’t know/” He may have lost his chance at hip hop authenticity, but the use of these lyrics mimic the stylistic and successful strategies of Eminem.
