What's the matter with rap? Author says hot beats carry dangerous message
by Larry Katz

Rap CDs with dirty words get slapped with stickers warning parents of ``explicit language.''

Don't worry about four-letter words, says Les Taha, author of "The Architects of Rap: Poison in Our Culture''.

Worry about the messages these CDs are pounding into the heads of children - particularly African-American children.

Maybe these toxic top-sellers, along with the videos that promote them, should carry a warning from the surgeon general: ``Caution. This product may cause psychological harm and damage your life.''

``Look at 50 Cent, the rapper getting all the attention now,'' Taha says. ``He was a drug dealer and involved in drive-bys and was incarcerated. His personal history is used as a selling point directed at African-Americans, who are experiencing a very high crime rate and a very high incarceration rate. You would think that this would be the last person to be promoted to African-American youth as a hero. Because the truth is that we're not going to make it out of the ghetto by being thugs.''

Taha is a 45-year-old cartoonist from Tacoma, Wash., who makes his thought-provoking points with humor in ``The Architects of Rap,'' which alternates short chapters of straight-talking prose with outrageous drawings showing rappers doing a better job of demeaning black people than the Ku Klux Klan ever did.

``A big wordy book criticizing hip-hop is not going to be read by the people I most want to read this book,'' he says. ``Cartoons make it accessible. A kid might read it if his parents give it to him.''

Taha's main point is that by glorifying ``gangsta'' and ``playa'' lifestyles, most major label rap releases are stereotyping black Americans as sex-crazed simpletons prone to violence.

``The first time I saw a rap video I was shocked,'' Taha says. ``It was like a minstrel show, only worse. It was every type of sterotypical (black) behavior we used to see in the past. I suppose people are used to these videos by now, but that doesn't mean they're OK. You can get used to something that's really wrong.''

But don't these rap stars also provide an image of African-American success?

``There are successful drug dealers, too,'' Taha counters. ``They're also flashy and they like to show off their rings and their cars. But they sell something that hurts the community, same as these rappers. You could say they are Uncle Toms, because they are selling out their race for a dollar bill. Maybe that's harsh, but it's true. If someone sells something that disrupts people's lives and they get rewarded for it, whoa! What kind of message does that send?''

Taha takes care to point out that he is not against rap music or hip-hop culture.

``There's nothing wrong with liking the music,'' he says. ``I like some of it myself. The problem is the message in a lot of it.

``People think that rap songs represent black behavior,'' he says. ``That's why when a white rapper comes along, people say he's emulating black behavior. Young people are getting the message that this is what it means to be black.

``But this `playerism' thing is a disaster. Look at what's happening. Seventy percent of all African-American infants are born to unwed mothers. Seventy percent!

``That's what's hurting us now,'' Taha says, ``not the fact that some waitress won't wait on you in Denny's. Our biggest problems are the family and crime. But then you see rap music and videos that are cheerleaders for these problems. I'm just shocked that more leaders aren't speaking out. I'm convinced that Martin Luther King and Malcolm X would be speaking out against this.''

Taha is not quite a lone voice in the wilderness. His book got immediate support from Boston rapper Akrobatic, whose recent CD ``Balance'' also voices troubling questions about today's hip-hop scene.

``I don't think (Taha) is much like me,'' Akrobatic says. ``Some of what he said offended me. But so many of his points are valid that I'd say this is recommended reading for anyone who has an interest in hip-hop. Because the music that is hammered into our heads influences us.

``His concept of poisoning the culture is so on point. Like he says, if I gave you a plate of rat poison, you wouldn't eat it. But if I mix it with your favorite food, you'll love it. And that's what's happening. The music is good. The beats are hot. But the message is poison.

``I don't think that rap or hip-hop should be devoid of offensive material,'' Akrobatic adds. ``But that's mostly all there is. There's a flood of ignorance.''

What about the argument that nasty rap reflects the harsh realities of black American life?

``The realism is blurred,'' Akrobatic says. ``It makes me angry when rappers put up this false picture of being a person who will shoot anybody who looks at them funny. If they did that, they'd go to jail. But these guys make it seem like this is cool, that it's something they do all the time. If you're 14, you're impressionable, you're being told that if you want to be tough, a real nigga, then this is what you gotta do. But the consequences aren't on display.''

Charles Spurlock, who nodded his head in agreement while looking over ``The Architects of Rap,'' sees the consequences of thug behavior daily.

``These rap songs and videos don't make me angry, they make me sad,'' says Spurlock, a Massachusetts Superior Court judge. ``They glorify violence. What they rap about, nobody pays attention to the end result you see in court. It destroys everything. You don't want to censor art, but it's not artistic anymore.

``I know they say that these songs show reality,'' Spurlock says. ``Well, I'm saying you better get a different reality. Because otherwise you're going to get in jail or get dead.''

E-mail: LKatz@bostonherald.com.