Hip-hop’s defining attribute— and its worst fault— is its primacy of the individual. Once you wipe away the veneer of the bling, the sex, the girls, the drugs, the thug life, the cars, the money, and all of the typical content of rap music you are left with a primal cry of the down-trodden individual who is lifting himself from dire circumstances.
The me, me, me mantra is admittedly sickening and artless after years of countless and unceasing professions of self-aggrandizement. But let us not take hip-hop culture at its worst, but examine its positive qualities.
Rap music is probably the most viable, appealing, and interesting form of modern poetry being made today. What distinguishes poetry from prose is its rhyme, meter, rhythm, and to put it bluntly— its sound. In poetry sound and rhythm is more important than content. Prose is not meant to be read aloud and it can sound any way— it doesn’t matter. What matters is its content. Poetry is meant to be read aloud and the content doesn’t matter as much— it should sound good.
(great poetry of course sounds great and its content is great. But we’re not talking about great poetry— just poetry in general.)
Thus rap music clearly is poetry— because above all, the rapper must have a good flow and rhythm— it must sound good. The meaning and content of the rap is— generally speaking— secondary.
Many rap detractors decry the lack of originality of the “beat” or music or backing track on a rap song. But like the content of the lyrics, the beat is secondary. It exists only to set the rhythm and the tone. In fact, some of the best rap songs have the most simple beats— so as not to distract the listener from the main point of the song— the rapper.
