Dipa Basu and Sidney Lemelle’s, The Vinyl Ain’t Final follows All Shook Up nicely with a critical look at the state of music within contemporary black culture in America. There were two very important aspects I noticed within the pages of this book that played nicely into the critical discourse of these two editors. First, I noticed the fact that the book brings together a collection of diverse, miscellaneous writings by a handful of different authors to create a “whole”. This plays perfectly into the highly contested idea of sampling that has become so important to the emergence of hip-hop as an art form, and later to scholarly and sometimes heated discourse on the musical form. Second, I applaud the editors’/authors’ use of both “scholarly” wording, as well as aspects of current slang used within rap spheres. This appearance of such slang is able in some ways to further canonize the study of urban dialect as a legitimate language resulting from, originally the withholding of literacy from black slaves in America. I would compare these features to the work of bell hooks and Cornel West’s, Breaking Bread in that it uses characteristics of traditional Black culture (oral tradition) to push the academic world to accept such aspects as legitimate, scholarly literature.
One of the chapters that have always had a profound effect on me is the work of Mumia Abu-Jamal. His sharp understanding of contemporary black culture (even if he denies it as an “old man”) amazes me. His stark comparison between the two worlds in Hip Hop or Homeland Security truly breaks down the system in a short, concise manner. His prose almost mimics facets of hip hop in it’s simple rhythm, and to hear it read by him online only enforces that feeling. Regardless of weather the man is guilty or innocent, he is able to sum up amazing points connecting aspects of mass-culture with the marginalization of black culture.
The second chapter I found most interesting was Basu’s chapter, Hip Hop: Cultural Clout, Corporate Control, and the “Carceral Cast”. Beyond its beautiful alliteration, this chapter uncovers the deep seeded issues within the production and distribution of Rap music; issues which seem to have perpetuated since our last look at Rock n’ Roll. Basu deals with the fetishization within the consumption of rap music by suburban white kids. She also brings up many of the same ideas about space that Avila touched upon, and extends the relationship between race and space into the prison system. The most profound point that Basu drives home comes from the work of Norman Kelley, which she cites on page 33, and I felt really summed up the chapter nicely: “Norman Kelley describes the process as colonial-like, where the raw materials of producing hip hop (styles, songs, aesthetics, vernacular) and labor (Black entrepreneurs, artists) are reoriented outside the ‘colonies’ (ghettoes) to meet the demands for consumption in wealthier (suburban) areas.” This put into perspective the still thriving ideals of colonialism in today’s society.
In an increasingly changing world of hip hop music, where it is nearly impossible to keep track of what’s going on, these two authors/editors have created an amazing “database” of critical literature revolving around the creation of hip hop and it’s significance to contemporary black culture.