MEEKER, JAMES KENNETH, Ph.D., May 2019 SOCIOLOGY

Home , Chopped and screwed, Deeper Than Rap, Dominic Power, Economic capital, Enculturation, Guy Evans

THE SPECIES OF CAPITAL AND THE CULTURAL PRODUCTION OF HIP-HOP (258 pp.)

Dissertation Advisor: Timothy Berard, Ph.D.

Over the last forty years, hip-hop has evolved as a cultural form describing the impact of racial marginalization experienced by African Americans. Contemporary research has focused primarily on the consumption and symbolic meaning of hip-hop rather than how hip-hop is culturally produced. This study examined the relationships between cultural, social, economic, and subcultural capital to the cultural production of hip-hop. Data was gathered using semi- structured interviews with thirty hip-hop cultural producers. Results identified two groups of hip- hop cultural producers: (a) those whose capital transferred into a hip-hop cultural production career, and (b) those whose capital had not transferred into a hip-hop career. Several qualitative themes emerged describing the roles of social, cultural, economic, and subcultural capital as it relates to hip-hop cultural production. In conclusion, participants with greater capital resources through early involvement in cultural production were more likely to have their capital transfer into a career in hip-hop cultural production. These findings suggest that, despite being positioned as an artistic form that ‘speaks’ for all African Americans, hip-hop cultural production is characterized by structural inequality that excludes the least capitalized individuals.

THE SPECIES OF CAPITAL

AND THE

CULTURAL PRODUCTION OF HIP-HOP

A dissertation submitted

to Kent State University in partial

fulfillment of the requirements for the

degree of Doctor of Philosophy

James Kenneth Meeker Jr.

May 2019

Except for previously published materials Dissertation written by

James Kenneth Meeker Jr.

B.A., Cleveland State University, 2012

M.A., Cleveland State University, 2013

Ph.D., Kent State University, 2019

Approved by

______, Chair, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Timothy Berard, Ph.D.

______, Members, Doctoral Dissertation Committee Christopher Dum, Ph.D.

______, Kamesha Spates, Ph.D.

______, Babacar M’Baye, Ph.D.

______, David Swartz, Ph.D.

______, Paul Haridakis, Ph.D. Accepted by

______, Chair, Department of Sociology Richard Serpe, Ph.D.

______, Dean, College of Arts and Sciences James Blank, Ph.D.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Page TABLE OF CONTENTS………………………………………………………………….. iv

LIST OF TABLES……………..………………………………………………………...... v

DEDICATION…………………………………………………………………………….. vi

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS……………………………………………………………….. vii

CHAPTER

I. INTRODUCTION……………..………………………………………………………… 1

Research Aims……………..………………………………………………………. 6

Benefits and Broader Impact……………..………………………………………... 8

II. REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE……………..……………………………………… 10

Hip-Hop……………..……………………………………………………………... 11

Cultural Production Careers……………..………………………………………… 20

Cultural Production and the Species of Capital……………..……………………... 33

Subcultural Capital……………..………………………………………………….. 45

III. METHODOLOGY……………..……………………………………………………… 53

Sampling Strategy……………..…………………………………………………… 56

Data Collection……………..……………………………………………………… 59

Data Analysis……………..……………………………………………………….. 64

Ethical Issues……………..……………………………………………………….. 69

IV. RESULTS AND FINDINGS……………..…………………………………………… 74

Description of the Participants……………..……………………………………… 75

Participant Music Involvement……………..……………………………………… 78

Hip-Hop Career Transfer and Non-Transfer Participants……………..…………... 81

Report of the Qualitative Themes……………..…………………………………… 84

Getting In……………..……………………………………………………………. 88

Social Capital……………..……………………………………………………….. 104

Cultural Capital……………..……………………………………………………… 122

Economic Capital……………..…………………………………………………… 148

Subcultural Capital……………..………………………………………………….. 166

V. DISCUSSION, IMPLICATIONS, AND RECOMMENDATIONS……………..…….. 185

Discussion……………..…………………………………………………………… 186

Contributions……………..………………………………………………………… 215

Limitations……………..…………………………………………………………... 224

Recommendations for Future Research……………..……………………………... 225

APPENDICES

List of Participants……………..…………………………………………………... 227

Interview Guide……………..……………………………………………………… 228

REFERENCES……………..………………………………………………………………. 237

LIST OF TABLES

Table Page

1. Participant Descriptive Data ……………………………………………… 77

2. Participant Music Involvement …………………………………………… 80

3. Transfer Group Participants Compared to Non-Transfer Group Participants 83

4. Definitions and Examples of Themes 85-87

DEDICATION

This project is dedicated to my wife, Diane, whose kindness, love and support nurtured and sustained me throughout this challenging period. I thank and dedicate this work to my children, Gavin and Talia, for their years of patience and understanding during this educational journey. I would also like to dedicate this project to Dr. Linda Francis for her years of guidance, compassion, and care that she has shown me.

Finally, I dedicate this project to the memory of Dr. James A. King (1940-2013) who, at the University of Toledo, mentored my early interest in sociology as both friend and teacher.

vii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to acknowledge the contributions of the many persons that helped guide and shape this research. First, I thank Dr. Timothy Berard for his vigilant and tireless assistance in this project from its infancy until its completion. I would like to thank my committee members,

Dr. Christopher Dum, Dr. Kamesha Spates, Dr. Babacar M’Baye, and Dr. David Swartz for their invaluable, impactful contributions to this work. Additionally, I would like to thank Dr. Paul

Haridakis for his insightful review and professional moderation during the finalization of this dissertation. Lastly, I would like to acknowledge Dr. Richard Serpe for his many years of advice, counsel, and advocacy—without which it is doubtful whether this project would have been possible.

viii

CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

This study examines the relationship between Bourdieu’s theories of capital and the cultural production of hip-hop music. Hip-hop, a uniquely African American form of artistic expression, is of interest to social scientists as it reveals a complex set of norms, practices, beliefs, and techniques of cultural resistance employed by a racially oppressed subculture

(Bennett 2008). While scholarly examination of cultural fields such as hip-hop is relatively new, these studies are critical for understanding how meaning is constructed and reproduced within contemporary society (Prior 2011; Becker 1996). Furthermore, scientific investigation of cultural arts such as hip-hop allows for examination of “the boundary between art and everyday life”

(Featherstone 2007:64) that underlies the study of interrelationships among symbolic consumption, exchange, production, and social behavior in postmodern society. Consequently, hip-hop scholarship has grown rapidly in the last decade with landmark studies being conducted in a number of disciplines including sociology, critical race theory, education, psychology, anthropology, literary analysis, history, and even religious studies (Miller, White Hodge,

Coleman, and Chaney 2014).

Hip-hop is compelling because it provides a unique empirical window into the norms, practices, and beliefs of a racially marginalized population (Collins 2006). First, hip-hop culture provides an artistic account of African American experiences and culture (Harrison 2018;

Persaud 2006). Coleman (1961) argues that the study of artistic forms such as hip-hop provides information on the development of non-mainstream cultures. This is particularly true of the

African American subculture as it formed independently from, yet subordinated to the dominant, white society, due to segregation and racial discrimination.

Secondly, for nearly forty years hip-hop has influenced and been influenced by African

American culture (Clay 2003). The symbolic content of hip-hop often addresses social inequities, consistent with Middleton’s (1990) observation that subcultural forms often communicate a

“structural resonance” (9) revealing broader social inequalities such as racial discrimination, political and economic oppression. Subcultural forms can also provide a vehicle for subordinated groups to artistically address these perceived injustices.

Third, hip-hop, along with sports and other forms of entertainment, has been described as an escape from the historically poor occupational choices available for African Americans

(Harrison 2008). It is possible, however, that only the most fortunate hip-hop cultural producers realize enough professional success to dramatically alter their socioeconomic status. Hip-hop is actually created by a wide range of individuals with varying motives, degrees of involvement, and expectations of success. Hip-hop is an inclusive subcultural practice allowing researchers to potentially cover a wide variety of participants across the socioeconomic sphere (Kitwana 2002;

Arbona and Novy 1991).

Fourth, hip-hop is considered as a type of cultural resistance to socio-historical forces that have negatively impacted the African American community—thus providing artistic voice to an otherwise marginalized group of people (Krims 2000). Cultural resistance offered by hip-hop empowers disenfranchised subgroups within the African American community such as black women, providing an ability to “talk back” (Pough 2015:80) to oppressive racial and gender systems in a form of artistic activism.

Finally, Best and Kellner (1999) note that the longitudinal and qualitative study of hip- hop, like studies of other forms of African American music such as jazz and blues, allows for the investigation of historical and changing attitudes within the black community. The analysis of hip-hop is not limited to chronicling historical shifts, as hip-hop also extends to contemporary events. Hip-hop has been designated as the “CNN of the ghetto” (Chang 2005:251) by Public

Enemy founder Chuck D., due to its ability to articulate concerns and opinions within the black community in real time.

When all of these aspects are considered in tandem, hip-hop provides fertile grounds for studying African American culture and its reaction to racial marginalization in the United States.

This project examines sociocultural factors, identified by Bourdieu (1986) as economic, cultural, and social capital, in their relations to African Americans engaged in the cultural production of hip-hop. Supplemental phenomena conceptualized by Thornton (1995) as subcultural capital are also investigated. More broadly this study builds on a tradition of inquiry into the cultural factors of African American life beginning with W.E.B. DuBois’ landmark works The Philadelphia Negro (1899) and Black Reconstruction in America (1935) and continuing into more contemporary research by Wilson (1980) and Marable (1983). The subject of hip-hop music has been selected as it provides a stylized, artistic account of the black experience in the United States and includes relevant data omitted by other forms of study (Prior

2011).

Bourdieu’s theoretical frame has been chosen to study these relationships due to its suitability for examining complex interactions between social structure and cultural practice

(Prior 2008), as well as its contribution of an abstract model for the association between structural power and cultural production (Swartz 1997). Emphasis has been placed on Bourdieu’s

species of capital as they provide some accounting for the poor outcomes of African Americans across a number of fields ranging from education (Lareau 1987), youth status negotiation (Carter

2003), and employment (Lin 2000). However, Bourdieu’s theory of capital has not been applied to study African American cultural production of hip-hop.

While the consumption of hip-hop music is an important part of interacting with African

American culture, that concern comprises the majority of research regarding hip-hop (Persaud

2006; Kitwana 2002). The focus of cultural production has been chosen because the subcultural world of hip-hop production is a relatively unexamined topic with no major studies to date.

Specifically, no current studies have examined the roles that economic, social, cultural, and subcultural capital play in the cultural production of hip-hop.

Theoretically, Bourdieu’s theory of capital articulates that possession of cultural and social resources not only signifies economic status, but also explains how socioeconomic status is achieved and maintained. Bourdieu’s framework has been employed in prior studies to contextualize the continued subordination of African Americans owing to their historical disenfranchisement in accessing and accumulating cultural and social capital (Andres, Anisef,

Krahn, Looker, and Thiessen 1999; Wilson 1978). This disenfranchisement, combined with a lack of economic capital, creates a self-reproducing system of inequality in which African

Americans are proportionately disadvantaged and relegated to the lower rungs of the socioeconomic strata (Alford 1999; Andres et al. 1999; Marable 1983).

While hip-hop cultural production originates from the black community it also requires resources, dispositions, and knowledge approximating Bourdieu’s species of capital (Harrison

2008; Hess 2005). Thus, even within an artistic domain considered to be distinctly African

American, the cultural production of hip-hop requires economic capital, access to the networks

of social capital, and reserves of cultural capital to compose, write, and perform music successfully (Menger 1999). Given the diminished availability of capital to the black community, however, it is conceivable that only the most highly capitalized African Americans can successfully engage in hip-hop cultural production. Based on these theoretical and empirical considerations several research questions emerge. First, what are the characteristics and social meanings of the subcultural world of hip-hop cultural production? Second, what is the relationship between Bourdieu’s species of capital and hip-hop cultural production? Third, how does black subcultural capital relate to the production of hip-hop? Furthermore, how are these various forms of capital acquired and understood by hip-hop cultural producers?

For this project the various forms of capital, as conceptualized by Bourdieu, shall be qualitatively investigated as they pertain to African American engagement in hip-hop cultural production, specifically the influence and presence of economic, cultural, social, and subcultural capital and their influences. The methodologies for this study included a variety of qualitative techniques to investigate hip-hop cultural production such as participant observation and semi- structured interviews with hip-hop artists.

There are a number of potential significant findings for this study. First, this research addresses a number of theoretical and practical omissions in the literature exploring relationships between the cultural production of popular music and its relationship to the overriding social structure (Prior 2011). Secondly, the findings potentially provide details of the social world, attendant meanings, values, norms, and processes governing the cultural field of hip-hop production. Third, this study shall illustrate the relationships between the species of capital, in the form of family background, educational preparation, social network, and other resources, and the cultural production of hip-hop (Allen 1978). Such an illustration contributes to the

understanding of hip-hop cultural production as a type of career requiring the expenditure or transfer of economic, social, and cultural capital. Finally, this project potentially situates the role that subcultural capital plays in the symbolic context of hip-hop cultural production. It is demonstrated that the cultural production of hip-hop requires the mobilization of both traditional forms of capital and subcultural capital in order to be considered authentic and commercially viable. The conclusion of this project potentially provides a more complete understanding of the relationships between economic, social, cultural, and subcultural capital as they relate to the

African American cultural production of hip-hop music.

RESEARCH AIMS

The primary research goal of this study is to qualitatively explore the relationship between the species of capital theorized by Bourdieu, and of Thornton’s accompanying theory of subcultural capital, as they relate to the field of hip-hop cultural production. In order to accomplish this goal, this project explored the social world of hip-hop cultural production to examine the interactions, relationships, and meanings that cultural producers ascribe to hip-hop music creation. During this investigation, focus is placed on uncovering the roles that social, cultural, and economic capital play in the cultural production of hip-hop music. Lastly, as hip- hop cultural production is strongly associated with the African American community, a social group that is broadly understood as a racially subordinated subculture, emphasis is placed on understanding how uniquely black subcultural capital informs the substance, style, and production of hip-hop music.

This qualitative project has three key research aims:

Aim 1: To describe the settings, social interactions, relationships, and meanings unique to the participants of hip-hop cultural production.

Aim 2: To identify the contributions that: (a) social capital, (b) cultural capital, and (c) economic capital make in the cultural production of hip-hop music.

Aim 3: To understand the role that subcultural capital plays in the cultural production of hip-hop music.

The aims of this project address a number of pivotal research areas adding to the scientific understanding of hip-hop cultural production. First, these investigations provide detail, description, and narration of the social world of hip-hop cultural producers, a field of inquiry that is currently understudied and poorly detailed. Additionally, this research addresses numerous theoretical and practical omissions in the literature exploring relationships between structural inequality and the creation of popular music.

Secondly, this project supplements prior work exploring Bourdieu’s theory of capital and how it intersects with cultural production, offering fresh insights into how undercapitalized groups engage in artistic creation. This aim potentially reveals the far-reaching impact of racial subordination faced by African Americans through social and cultural undercapitalization. Such overlooked forms of undercapitalization could make it difficult for African Americans to participate in cultural production even within artistic domains considered to be the province of their endogenous subculture.

Lastly, this study examines the relationship between subcultural capital and hip-hop cultural production. Because hip-hop emerged from the African American subculture, its content, form, character, and style is strongly informed by the subcultural discourse, practices, and symbolic meanings of that community. Understanding how these subcultural dispositions and attitudes can be artistically capitalized therefore will provide a novel framework in which to conceptualize hip-hop cultural production.

BENEFITS AND BROADER IMPACT

This project contributes to a number of key sociological interests involving the intersection of race, social class, and cultural production. First, this research provides empirical observation relevant to Bourdieu’s theories of cultural production, particularly observations material to understanding how existing social inequality impacts artistic expression for subordinated groups such as African Americans. Secondly, this project provides description of the inner workings of the cultural production process for creating hip-hop music, an understudied line of inquiry. Third, this research further explores the phenomenon of the ‘non-accumulation’ of capital faced by African Americans, indicating how the impact of racial marginalization extends beyond conventional work and interferes within occupational spheres that are nominally considered to be an artistic ‘black space.’ Finally, the role of black subcultural capital in the cultural production of hip-hop music is an unexplored topic. Exploring this topic promises new insight into African American culture, particularly with respect to themes of racial authenticity, racial identity, and resistance within hip-hop.

Consequently, this project has the potential to impact larger social policy, educational curricula, and community-sponsored organizations by demonstrating the importance of non- economic forms of capital within the African American community. Policy makers and local

stakeholders will have a greater understanding of how investments in programs that cultivate cultural capital, such as music and arts education, are important for fostering growth in the black community. Furthermore, it is hoped that greater priority be given to formal and informal programs that foster the cultural capital necessary for greater engagement in cultural production projects such as hip-hop. Lastly, it is hoped this research can inform policies that serve ‘at-risk’

African American youth, those who theoretically possess the greatest reserves of subcultural capital. These youth can be served partly by artistic avenues of expression through mentoring, community arts, and other types of intervention that foster interest in hip-hop cultural production, as a constructive alternative to violence and crime.

CHAPTER II

REVIEW OF THE LITERATURE

The purpose of this research project is to qualitatively examine the relationships between various forms of economic, cultural, social, and subcultural capital as they relate to hip-hop music production. Hip-hop, one of the most popular styles of music to emerge in recent decades, is of keen interest as it articulates the experience of African Americans as a subordinated racial group in the United States. Examination of the cultural production of hip-hop is important as it potentially illuminates unexplored associations between race, social class, and the processes and institutions involved in cultural production (Potter 2017).

In the past, research on popular culture such as hip-hop has been viewed as academically superficial—a charge that has been challenged as prejudicial and unfounded by cultural sociologist Andy Bennett (2008). On the contrary, scholarly examination of popular culture presents novel ways to contextualize broader social problems such as racial inequality, discrimination, resistance, and social marginalization (Bennett 2008; Krims 2000). Furthermore, ethnographers such as Michael Buroway (2005a) have championed the examination of subcultural groups such as hip-hop cultural producers as being a new form of public sociology constituting a ‘third wave’ of qualitative research (Nichols 2005). This ‘pop sociology’ provides potentially fruitful inroads to studying important topics such as marginalization or racial inequality and serves to supplement other ‘mainstream academic’ types of inquiry (Gelder 2007;

Buroway 2005b).

However, to examine the phenomenon of hip-hop cultural production it is critical to review the background literature to provide a general empirical and theoretical framework guiding this study. First, hip-hop shall be introduced as a cultural form, including its origins in the African American community, as well as its development as a musical cultural product.

Secondly, prior research on hip-hop shall be summarized, focusing on the primary themes of hip- hop scholarship such as describing its symbolic meaning, its use as cultural resistance, the relationship between hip-hop and African American self-identities, the educational and therapeutic applications of hip-hop, as well as various lines of inquiry that critique hip-hop as a negative cultural product. Next, as this research focuses on the relationship between hip-hop cultural production and cultural and social resources, the theoretical framework of Pierre

Bourdieu shall be introduced and discussed at length, specifically the concepts of fields of cultural production and species of capital. Additionally, as hip-hop emanates from within a subcultural group, the related theory of subcultural capital, as conceptualized by Sarah Thornton, shall also be explored. Lastly, this review shall conclude with a synthesized discussion of the career of hip-hop cultural production as it relates to this research project.

HIP-HOP

Hip-hop refers to a stylized expression of the African American experience consisting of musical forms, dance, clothing styles, and urban art such as graffiti, in addition to a set of normative codes and behaviors unique to that cultural practice (Persaud 2006; Kitwana 2002). As a cultural form, hip-hop spontaneously emerged in the United States during the late 1970's, gained prominence in the 1980's, and has since become a worldwide phenomenon (Kitwana

2005; Watkins 2005). Hip-hop originated alongside the inner city experiences of blacks,

emerging as a stylistic evolution from earlier types of African American culture ranging from soul music to club dancing and competitive street performance (Rose 2008; Hess 2005).

Sociologically, hip-hop is classified as a bricolage, constructed from a wide range of disparate elements contained within black culture as a response to living in historic states of racial subordination (Brake 1985; Hebdige 1979; Clarke et al. [1971] 2006).

As a cultural form hip-hop is strongly influenced by the environment of racial discrimination and oppression faced by African Americans. In the United States, racial subordination remains a feature of American society for people of color, particularly African

Americans (Bonilla-Silva 2006). Racial subordination is defined as the exclusion or devaluation of people on the basis of race or ethnicity (Omi and Winant 1986). Historically African

Americans have been marginalized across the entire spectrum of social, political and economic life since the founding of the United States—a practice that continues into the present day

(Alexander 2010; Webster 1992; Marable 1983). Marginalization against African Americans ranges from overt discrimination to institutional discrimination, whereby persons are excluded or marginalized based on the everyday practices of institutions such as schools, work, or law enforcement, to subtle ‘color-blind’ methods designed to invisibly maintain a system of racial oppression (Gallagher 2003; Williams 1985). Blacks are subject to differential treatment in terms of incarceration (Petit and Western 2004), employment and the workplace (Wingfield 2010), access to emergency services (Forman and Lewis 2006), and educational opportunity (Feagin,

Vera, and Imani 1996). Consequently, African Americans have been reduced to occupy a permanent underclass of the “truly disadvantaged,” particularly urban-dwelling blacks residing within racially segregated neighborhoods whose existence is characterized by extreme social disorganization including crime, poverty, drug abuse, and institutional neglect (Wilson 1987).

As a racially oppressed minority African Americans developed their own unique cultural forms such as hip-hop. It is common for marginalized groups to manifest their own culture as they are positioned against a mainstream ideology, creating their own cultural practices and meanings in opposition to the dominant culture as a type of subcultural resistance (Hebdige

1979; Clarke, Hall, Jefferson, and Roberts [1971] 2006; Hargreaves 1967). The development of unique cultural forms is common in social settings involving longstanding imbalances of power between groups. As Sykes (1958) observes, oppositional subcultures are a common response to institutions that are viewed as oppressive or unfair. This struggle to create cultural meanings in defiance of a dominant culture is common to marginalized groups, despite the unequal conditions in which to do so (Willis 1978). Due to this inequality, the practices of subcultural groups are often logical extensions, known as homologies, of the lived realities of the practitioners (Willis

1978:198-201). In other words, the character, forms, and battlegrounds of cultural resistance are rooted in the experiences of the marginalized group attempting to navigate a social landscape that is both hostile and exclusive to them (Trondman, Lund, and Lund 2011; Clarke et al. [1971]

2006). Over time, various forms of subcultural resistance have manifested among the African

American community including black consciousness movements, black nationalism,

Afrocentrism, and hip-hop culture (Collins 2006; Krims 2005).

The most recent, and arguably most successful, form of cultural resistance mounted by the African American community is hip-hop (Stapleton 1998; Sanders 1990; Clarke et al. [1971]

2006). Subcultural resistance articulated through hip-hop allows otherwise marginalized African

Americans to accomplish two goals: (a) to comment on a system of power relations viewed as oppressive and domineering, and (b) to construct solidarity based on the commonality of the black experience in America (Potter 2017; Asante 2008; Helfenbein 2006). Furthermore, as a

complex system comprised of many elements, the symbolic nature of hip-hop allows it to be keenly positioned against a racialized cultural hegemony (Best and Kellner 1999). Common themes of cultural resistance used in hip-hop include criticism of white wealthy power structures, police brutality and mass incarceration, racial animosity, the ‘deferment’ of the American Dream for African Americans, gender roles and black feminism, black unemployment and underemployment, Afrocentrism, anti-capitalism, racial segregation, and engendering a black consciousness (Asante 2008; Rose 2008; Chang 2005).

While hip-hop encompasses a wide range of expressive and artistic behaviors it is most commonly associated with music, being known as "hip-hop" or "rap" interchangeably. As a musical form hip-hop has become financially lucrative, selling as many albums per year as competing music styles such as rock or pop (Rose 2008; Hess 2005). Consequently, hip-hop is an artistic career and subject to the same institutional rules and legal codes, and similar occupational difficulties as other industrialized musical genres (Menger 1999; Bennett 1980).

Consequently, hip-hop is a complex cultural construct comprising cultural, subcultural, and occupational characteristics (Kitwana 2002; Hollingshead 1975). In general, the artistic expression of deviant or counter-normative values by a subculture represents a popular cultural theme among music consumers and thus a potential lucrative market for the music industry, as evidenced by the widespread popularity and acceptance of hip-hop music (Berzano and Genova

2015; Sanders 1990).

Prior Hip-Hop Research

In recent years, hip-hop has emerged as a growing and popular field for scholarly investigation. This trend emerged with the realization that examinations of cultural fields such as

hip-hop provide critical ways to understand how culture is constructed and reproduced among marginalized persons within the contemporary United States (Asante 2008; Chang 2005; Becker

1963). Prior (2011) notes that analysis of cultural fields such as hip-hop can reveal important data such as strategic decisions, social practices, and cultural adaptations omitted by other types of research. Furthermore, there is a pressing need in cultural sociology to provide frameworks in which cultural expressions such as hip-hop are constructed and consumed in relation to their attendant culture (Savage and Silva 2013). As examples, Kelley (1994) reveals that hip-hop provides a means for African Americans to provide social commentary regarding their living conditions as a racially marginalized, lower class group, while Jackson (2001) observes that hip- hop allows African American youth to achieve feelings of racial authenticity by engaging in various subcultural performances and practices. Additionally, through examination of hip-hop, cultural features of the African American community, such as misogyny or discrimination against Asian persons, can be subject to inquiry (Best and Kellner 1999).

Hip-hop is interesting sociologically for several additional reasons. First, hip-hop provides a cultural account of African American discourse and practices (Persaud 2006).

Secondly, for nearly forty years, hip-hop has helped shape, define, and influence the African

American cultural identity and community (Harrison 2018; Jefferies 2014; Rose 2008). Third, hip-hop, along with sports and other forms of entertainment, is commonly viewed as ‘escape’ from traditionally poor career outcomes for African Americans (Harrison 2008). Hip-hop is also considered a type of cultural resistance to historical social forces that have negatively impacted the African American community, thus providing artistic voice to an otherwise subordinated group of people. Close examination of hip-hop enables a close analysis of the social meanings conveyed by that voice (Hess 2005; Krims 2000). Lastly, research suggests that subcultural

participation in practices such as hip-hop can help mediate identities that exist along the threshold between counter-normative and normative, providing a sense of positive self-concept

(Copes and Williams 2007).

Since hip-hop has become an important topic for scholarly investigation, different thematic foci have emerged. Research into hip-hop can be categorized along six identifiable themes: (a) descriptive accounts of hip-hop culture and practices, (b) symbolic meaning and cultural resistance of hip-hop, (c) inquiry into the relationship between hip-hop culture and identity or self-concept, (d) employment of hip-hop as an educational tool or supplement, (e) consideration of the therapeutic, counseling, and clinical aspects of hip-hop, and (f) critiques of hip-hop discourse or practice. The first research focus aims to provide description of hip-hop culture and chronicle individuals’ experiences with hip-hop. These studies range from providing cultural histories of the development of hip-hop (Forman 2002) to mapping the symbolic content of hip-hop as an authentic representation of the disorganized, marginalized environments from which hip-hop emerged (Black 2014). Furthermore, David Beer (2012) asserts that studying hip- hop lyrics and themes reveals vernacular accounts describing the lived realities of urban life for

African Americans. Due to its influence on world culture, studies investigating the relationship between hip-hop and non-African American cultures have been used to describe the economic hardships and social ostracism of other marginalized groups, such as lower class whites and immigrants living in the United Kingdom (Bennet 1999).

In addition to descriptive accounts, hip-hop research has also prioritized understanding the symbolic meaning of hip-hop, particularly as a type of cultural resistance to a white hegemonic society (Brake 1985). A common theme in hip-hop scholarship is the potential for cultural resistance that hip-hop offers African Americans (Clay 2013; Chang 2005; Watkins

2005). Historically, Jeffries (2014) and Watkins (2005) suggest that hip-hop is best understood as a response from the black community to the economic and political realities that negatively impacts all non-white racial and ethnic groups. On the other hand, Perry (2008) considers hip- hop to be a “disaporic space” (635) allowing persons of African descent—no matter their national location—to culturally resist and transcend local racial framing.

Regarding resistance to mainstream power relations, Jaffe (2014) suggests that the anti- racism and cultural resistance of hip-hop texts, combined with social science studies, can foster greater participation and efficacy for anti-racist social movements. Echoing this sentiment, in

Awad’s (2014) study of African youth living in Canada, hip-hop serves as a pathway to developing an identity of ‘blackness’ as a technique to resist an otherwise hegemonic, monolithic white culture. Lastly, studies chronicling efforts by whites to appropriate hip-hop by removing its anti-racist, critical discourse and recreating it as a “colorblind ideology” (Rodriguez 2006:

646) suggest that the cultural resistance motives of hip-hop are, in and of themselves, representative of a contested symbolic battleground for the artistic soul of hip-hop.

As a type of cultural resistance, hip-hop allows significant opportunities for the cultivation and development of black identities. Hip-hop has been noted to be critical for developing authentic black identities as well as mediating social interactions, functioning as a type of cultural capital for African American youth (Clay 2003). Furthermore, racial authenticity gained through hip-hop culture can serve as a protective factor against assimilation, allowing black participants to maintain cultural practice and meanings that are “their own” (McLeod

1999). A positive black identity gained through hip-hop extends beyond the individual, building a historical sense of community rooted in the common experience of consuming hip-hop artifacts such as CD’s, films, and myth (Dimitradis 2009). Additionally, through selective consumption of

black feminist hip-hop, positive black female identities may also be cultivated (Durham 2007).

Once established through hip-hop, the black feminist identity has been linked to being at the vanguard of both the anti-racist and anti-sexist movements (Pough 2015). However, Stapleton

(1998) and Clay (2013) note that the rebellion and political resistance of hip-hop is not limited to black youth. Rather, this dimension of hip-hop fosters a general political awareness of inequality in American society that potentially undergirds increased collaborative action and cultural resistance among young persons of all races and ethnicities.

Another topic of hip-hop research is its impact and role in educational environments, particularly within disadvantaged school districts that are predominately African American

(Bridges 2011). For example, Morrel and Duncan-Andrade (2002) note success in increasing

African American academic literacy among primary school students through incorporation of a hip-hop-based curriculum. Hip-hop has also been used to increase participation and mastery in

English as a second language curriculum for non-English speaking immigrants (Awad 1999).

Furthermore, hip-hop has been employed within a pedagogical setting to foster positive self- image and identity, as well as provide a historical account of race relations in North America

(Kirkland and Malone 2017; Hill 2009). The use of hip-hop lyrics and imagery to illustrate the political and economic marginalization faced by African Americans and engage students has proven to be an efficient pedagogical technique (Bridges 2011; Hill 2009). Through the use of critical hip-hop pedagogy, focused on cultural resistance to racial discrimination and oppression, it is possible to inculcate a “liberatory praxis” (Akom 2009:52) aimed at developing commitment towards social justice activism in students. This “hip-hop based curricula” (Hall 2017) can be extended to include aesthetic, political, and identity-based issues that complement existing language arts programs.

In tandem with research focusing on the use of hip-hop within education, counselors and other psychological practitioners have examined the use of hip-hop within clinical settings. First suggested by Don Elligan (2000), hip-hop was utilized to facilitate culturally sensitive, relevant dialogues between patient and practitioner for African American men. It is believed that thematic analysis of hip-hop lyrics allows for the creation of emotional bonds and empathy between patients and counseling professionals (Kobin and Tyson 2006). Hip-hop therapy was later expanded to include counseling strategies for at-risk and delinquent African American youth

(Tyson 2002), in small group settings for persons suffering from AIDS/HIV (Stephens,

Braitwate, and Taylor 1998), as well as for treatment of substance abuse disorders (Baker,

Dingle, and Gleadhill 2012) and social justice counseling (Washington 2018). Lastly, recent research by Robinson, Seaman, Montgomery, and Winfrey (2017) has identified that hip-hop based interventions can be successfully used in a medical setting to foster increased health literacy among African American patients.

The final research theme is critiques of hip-hop cultural practices, discourse, or symbolic content. This theme is an offshoot of research examining the meanings and significance of hip- hop. However, as there are many critical judgments against hip-hop, the body of research criticizing hip-hop is large enough to constitute its own theme. Criticism of the negative messages in hip-hop culture has existed since the identification of the genre (Collins 2006). First, there is the observation that negative messaging, such as the sexual objectification of women or the normalization of criminality, are routinely ignored and neglected in favor of the more positive political commentary and cultural resistance of hip-hop (Clay 2013; Rebollo-Gil and

Moras 2012). Additionally, lyrical themes displaying homophobic, anti-Semitic and anti-Asian

biases are commonplace and undermine the anti-racism sentiments contained within hip-hop themes (Baldwin 1999; Best and Kellner 1999).

Stephens (2007) critiques the troublesome, anti-feminist messaging of hip-hop music videos and lyrics, challenging the problematic sexual scripts within hip-hop and the African

American community. These hypersexualized depictions of black women, considered by critics as ‘hip hop pornography,’ traverses shaky territory between strategies of radical self-expression, commercialized misogyny, and capitalist exploitation (Rebollo-Gil and Moras 2012). Backing these claims, research by Kistler and Lee (2009) indicated that under experimental conditions, exposure to hip-hop videos increased objectification of women and acceptance of sexual abuse committed by males. Furthermore, contemporary research indicates that hip-hop mediates a relationship between masculine behavior and potentially violent behavior stemming from online activity (Patton, Eschmann, and Butler 2013).

In response to these criticisms, Geneva Smitherman (1997) defended hip-hop by quoting

African American author James Baldwin contending that, despite attempts by competing artistic media and cultural messages to project an “illusion of safety,” the purpose of artistic expression is to “…disturb the peace” (3). In other words, whether the messages are positive or objectionable, hip-hop presents an authentic account of contemporary African American life that

“speaks the truth to the people …in a language that the people know and understand”

(Smitherman 1997:22).

CULTURAL PRODUCTION CAREERS

While hip-hop consists of many cultural practices, ranging from dance to graffiti, it is perhaps most strongly identified as a genre of music. Hip-hop music, since its inception in the

1970’s and rise to cultural prominence in the 1980’s, has become one of the most popular and financially lucrative styles of music (Watkins 2005:32-33). Consequently, many hip-hop musical artists have become internationally famous such as Missy Elliot, Dr. Dre, 50Cent, Lauryn Hill,

Jay-Z, Tupac Shakur, Mary J. Blige, Snoop Dogg, Nicki Minaj, Ice Cube, Kendrick Lamar, and

Lil’ Kim. Professionally these artists have a career in the cultural production of hip-hop. But they are only the most famous among hundreds of artists in this leading cultural form. Therefore, it is germane to explore the occupational and professional aspects of hip-hop as a type of cultural production.

Cultural production refers to the creation of symbolic goods and services and includes authoring literature, directing film, and creating music like hip-hop (Bourdieu 1983). As an artistic form, hip-hop is a culturally produced symbolic commodity that is deeply enmeshed within the existing music industry. Practitioners of hip-hop only become cultural producers by navigating a particular career path in pursuit of their artistic goals. In other words, the cultural production of hip-hop requires a professional commitment in the form of a career. While the term career is typically applied only to professional jobs characterized as white-collar, Everett

Hughes (1997) notes that some jobs occur outside of inflexible, hierarchal workspaces. Instead, careers can be understood as any sustained work within a given field that might comprise a series of different workplaces, schedules, and settings (Hughes 1997). Thus the work-lives of hip-hop artists are best understood as structured by a career with its own requirements, institutions, and workspaces (Negus 1996; Becker 1952). Currently, investigation into the work-lives of professional musicians is an understudied, yet developing, interest in sociology (Miller, White

Hodge, Coleman, and Chaney 2014; Hesmondhalgh 1999; Tunnel and Groce 1998).

Generally, cultural production careers are a type of freelance occupation lacking the security of a conventional job such as insurance benefits, guaranteed salary, or employment stability (Menger 1999; Manturzewska 1990). Sociologically, these artistic careers can be characterized as consisting of two broad categories of occupational involvement: professionals or amateurs (Stebbins 2007). Clarifying this distinction, Stebbins (1977) notes that while both amateurs and professionals understand the cultural codes and standards for the production of high quality artistic commodities and convincing performances, the primary distinction is that professionals are motivated to culturally produce art for commercial sale to the public whereas amateurs are engaged in artistic creation for personal rather than economic reasons (Stebbins

1977).

Despite its specialized nature, the career of a hip-hop cultural producer is similar to other types of artistic professions (Clay 2003; c.f. Bourdieu 1993). Parallels have been drawn between the occupational trajectories of hip-hop artists and rock musicians (Peterson and White 1989;

Bennett 1980). Furthermore, like other forms of music, such as rock or pop music, hip-hop has become ‘industrialized’ by the professional music industry (Asante 2008). Drawing further parallels to other music genres, the cares and concerns of hip-hop artists, such as cultivating an authentic image, exuding ‘star power,’ or managing financial worries, are similar to other types of music performers (Cloonan 2009; Lopes 2000; Dyer 1991). In general, the careers of professional musicians are managed through interaction with corporate record labels (Petti

2006). Owing to the dominance of record labels, the entire career arc of a professional musician is largely determined by longstanding practices, legal codes, and social structure undergirding the entire music industry (Peterson and White 1989). The professional music industry, characterized by ‘major’ labels with massive distribution networks and access to the public, is

generally driven by a pattern of rational action towards standardization and profit seeking

(Stratton 1983). These institutional structures result in an interlinked network of relationships between the music industry, artists, and audiences (Negus 1996).

Artistic fields like hip-hop careers can be viewed as a type of entrepreneurial activity.

Research by Poschke (2012) indicates that a number of factors are strongly related to entrepreneurial activity, such as a lack of job opportunity yet access to alternative capital resources enabling non-traditional career paths. While hip-hop careers require some financial investment on behalf of the worker, the degree of economic capital required is minimal compared to most traditional business start-ups (Schumaker 1995). However, at the onset of an artistic career, wealth and fame is seldom achieved quickly or easily. Individuals choosing to pursue an artistic career often meet with the disapproval of others for entering a speculative job field where there are no clearly charted pathways, nor guarantees of success (Wassal and Alper

1992; Manturzewska 1990). Attempting an artistic career requires a significant dedication of effort and is often met with marginal returns over long periods of time. Furthermore, the pursuit of an artistic career can often impede or prevent other occupational paths involving college or apprenticeships that lead to conventional jobs. Typically, the pursuit of an artistic career requires sacrifice on behalf of the artist regarding other types of work (Donnay and Borgen 1999).

Consequently, the disregard of conventional work can be viewed as deviant by family members, significant others, and friends (Manturzewska 1990).

Choosing hip-hop as a career, like other artistic occupations, is fraught with uncertainty and risk. Due to their unconventional nature, instability and potentially low-paying economic rewards, artistic occupations are viewed as deviant occupations by American culture at large compared to more predictable and stable types of work (Wassal and Alper 1992). Artistic careers

like hip-hop are potentially lucrative for the very few who achieve major success. However, an artistic career can be "normalized" as a non-deviant career for those who are financially successful (Way, Hernandez, Onnie Rogers, and Hughes 2013; Hughes, Keith, Morrow, Evans, and Crowdy 2013). In this way artistic careers can be viewed by mainstream standards as either entrepreneurial or deviant depending on the economic rewards and career success of the artist

(Stebbins 2007; Persaud 2006).

However, the relationship between the free labor markets and artistic careers as an occupational choice remains mysterious (Menger 1999). Traditionally, artistic careers are viewed as unstable and low paying compared to conventional occupations (Wassall and Alper 1992).

Quite often an artistic career exists in tandem with a conventional career until the artist can successfully transition to working fully in an artistic field. Research indicates that unavailability of conventional jobs may be a factor influencing pursuit of an artistic career, although these results were inconclusive (Menger 1999).

The lack of conventional occupational paths may foster a decision to enter an artistic career. Robert Merton's (1938) argues that individuals may choose unconventional careers if they are unable to pursue conventional career paths. Thus, pursuing an artistic career like hip-hop may allow participants to create an unconventional means to achieve conventional monetary success

(Merton 1938). Furthermore, a study by Donnay and Borgen (1999) indicated the choice of artistic occupations has been associated with high levels of self-efficacy coupled with a corresponding interest in artistic expression. Taken in concert, these insights suggest that the choice to pursue a hip-hop career can be characterized as a strategic occupational choice involving a number of factors ranging from personal interest, lack of occupational choice, and self agency.

Hip-Hop Cultural Products

The creation of hip-hop music as a cultural product requires the combination of completed songs, either released as singles or as a collection in the form of an album, along with associated artwork, such as the cover illustrations or photographs, depictions of the artists, and so forth (Negus 1992). For the purpose of this study, the focus is on the cultural products of musical songs, not the accompanying visual media.

Songs form the basis of hip-hop cultural production. As a popular musical format, hip- hop songs prominently feature two primary components: (a) vocal performances, and (b) musical composition (Schloss 2014; Negus 1992). The elements, the vocal performance and the musical composition, are brought together to produce the individual songs that form the basis for hip-hop cultural products. Within hip-hop, the vocal performance is typically called a “rap,” unless it is otherwise sung, and the musical composition is “the beat” (Chang 2005). Hip-hop vocal performances generally fall within the category of spoken-word raps, singing, or a combination of the two styles (Asante 2008; Kitwana 2002). Hip-hop beats, on the other hand, consist of a wide variety of musical compositions ranging from real instrumentation, electronic instruments, and samples of other artists’ works (Schumacher 1995). Derived from its origins in disk jockeys using musical cues and drum breaks from popular music, hip-hop makes ample use of sampling technology as the basis of much of its music (Chang 2005; Goodwin 1988).

As with other types of popular music, hip-hop must be recorded in a studio environment in order to become transformed into a cultural product (Hracs 2012; Negus 1992). The recording studio staff combines an array of specialists, such as recording engineers and producers, to capture the vocal and musical performances and technically translate them into a commercially salable product (Schloss 2014; Negus 1992). Therefore, the cultural production of hip-hop

involves a number of different artistic and technical roles that must be fulfilled in order to manufacture artistic products.

Roles within Hip-Hop Cultural Production

Within hip-hop cultural production there are a number of different artistic roles that have historically developed. Awareness of these different artistic roles, as well as their fluidity, individuals occupy multiple roles—is key to understanding the process of hip-hop cultural production. These roles within hip-hop are: the master of ceremonies (MC), disk jockey (DJ), and producer (Awad 2014; Asante 2008; Chang 2005). The MC role, probably the role afforded the highest public visibility, is most commonly associated with hip-hop artistry (Asante 2008;

Alim 2006). MC’s vocally perform (“rap”). They originated from party spokespersons, also known as ‘hype men’, that were a fixture in early hip-hop development (Watkins 2006). DJ’s, also developing from the formative years of hip-hop, are artists practiced in the art of turntablism, which is the manipulation of vinyl records to generate beats or a variety of sound effects (Chang 2005). While the artistic role of DJ was central to the initial explosion of hip-hop, much of the role’s contributions been replaced or emulated with modern technology such as sampling or digital audio workstations (Schloss 2014; Watkins 2006). Lastly, the role of producer involves responsibility for the technical aspects of a hip-hop production that ranges from recording engineering to music composition (Harrison 2008; Chang 2005).

The producer role requires additional clarification due to its broad nature and responsibilities in hip-hop cultural production. Historically, within general music production, the role of producer was designed to oversee the creation of cultural products. The producer’s duties involved bringing together performance artists, songwriters or songs from a purchased catalog,

and recording engineering staff (Muikku 1990; Hennion 1989). However, within hip-hop, the role of producer has become amorphous, occupying a number of differentiated tasks such as recording engineering, songwriting and music composition, as well as the traditional role of overseeing cultural production (Schloss 2014; Asante 2008; Chang 2005). Consequently, hip-hop producers may perform one or more of these tasks. Furthermore, hip-hop cultural production may rely upon multiple producers, each designated to perform specific tasks.

Bourdieu’s Field of Cultural Production

To better understand complex cultural forms such as hip-hop it is necessary to provide a framework that explains its creation and evolution. In other words, it is important to analyze the production, reproduction, and consumption of culture itself and how that relates to existing power structures in society. This endeavor is complicated by the many forms that hip-hop takes as a cultural practice and discourse. On the one hand, hip-hop exists as an authentic African

American street culture. On the other hand, hip-hop also exists as an artistic commodity, typically in the form of hip-hop music, which is created in alliance with black street culture, yet also regulated by public taste that is subject to market, institutional, and social-structural forces such as racial discrimination (Hebdige 1988).

The relationship between these two broad dimensions of hip-hop artistic production, the

“street” versus institutionalized forms, is complex and intertwined, with one form influencing the other and vise-versa. This circular association presents difficulties when attempting to describe the cultural production of hip-hop as an artistic work. One theoretical frame providing potential insight into this relationship is Bourdieu’s (1993) frame outlined in The Field of Cultural

Production, which focuses on the sociology of artistic creation within the modern political economy.

Before exploring Bourdieu’s understanding of the field of cultural production, it is important to define concepts pertaining to his theoretical orientation towards the overall social world. This is critical, as Bourdieu (1993) integrates the study of cultural production into his more general theories of society, featuring particularly the concepts of field and habitus (Swartz

1997). The terms field and habitus, in their simplest forms, refer to distinct social spaces and dispositions that govern social interaction (Swartz 1997; Bourdieu 1993; 1984). For Bourdieu

(1993), “field” refers to the “playing ground” of social relations—the setting in which interaction occurs between agents and their accompanying social positions. Potentially, since fields are brought into being through social interaction, an unlimited number of fields exist, each governed by the overriding hierarchy of the power structure in which all agents are located (Swartz 1997).

However, these fields, even the ones that appear autonomous, are ultimately subordinated by the social field of relations that is governed by power, specifically the power of the most dominant groups in society (O’Hara 2000). In other words, although fields are created through social interaction among agents, it is not an equal exchange between participants owing to the differing resources and social positions of the agents, as predetermined by the overriding power structure of society.

However, for Bourdieu, social relations consist of more than the spatial and hierarchal dimensions of fields, as agents possess knowledge, capacities, and the potential to formulate strategies in which to traverse the various fields they encounter. These dispositions, categorized as habitus by Bourdieu ([1972] 1977), provide actors with a framework in which to understand the demands of the field. Defined in Outline of a Theory of Practice (Bourdieu [1972] 1977),

habitus consists of “systems of durable, transposable dispositions” of “structuring structures”

(72) with the tendency to reproduce the power relations from which they emerge. More specifically, habitus consists of socially learned schemes and frames guiding the agent’s conduct, taste, expectations, and life choices (Swartz 1997; Lears 1985). In this sense habitus is a semi- conscious understanding of the “rules of the game” for social conduct and navigation within a particular field (Swartz 1997). Actors within unfamiliar fields, where they are not privy to the unwritten habitus underlying social interaction, are greatly disadvantaged. Such displaced actors are, so to speak, “over their heads,” attempting to play a game for which they do not know the rules.

The concepts of habitus and field undergird Bourdieu’s (1993) theories of cultural production, placing artistic creation within the realm of the political and economic spheres controlled by their attendant fields of power. Like other professional work, cultural production constitutes many fields, such as the film or music industry. These artistic fields exist in a complex relationship with the overruling, dominant hierarchy of social relations within the field of power and are interrelated among each other (Park 2014; Bourdieu 1993). Likewise, successful navigation of these artistic fields requires the acquisition of a specific habitus.

However, owing to the unique nature of artistic creation, the field of cultural production exists in tension with the prevailing field of power in general society, creating a singular relationship between habitus and fields of cultural production that bears specific attention (O’Hara 2000;

Bourdieu 1993).

To understand how field and habitus function within artistic fields it is essential to examine Bourdieu’s theory of cultural production. As mentioned earlier, for Bourdieu (1993;

1983), cultural production refers to the creation of symbolic goods and services within

contemporary society, such as art, music, theater, television programming, or luxury consumer items. This is important, particularly since Bourdieu considers culture to be a primary reproductive mechanism of social inequality (Storey 2009). Bourdieu (1993) emphasizes that power is central to the process of cultural production, noting that the act of artistic creation, despite appearing as an individual pursuit, actually exists “…within the field of power” (37) of existing hierarchal social relations.

Despite being “dominated” (Bourdieu 1993:38) by the prevailing economic order and subject to market forces as a symbolic commodity, cultural producers nevertheless retain a degree of autonomy regarding the ideological content and symbolic meaning of their products.

Artistic autonomy is critical to the process of creating artistic works, for example Bourdieu

(1993) claims that artistic fields would “disappear” (38) if cultural producers lacked the freedom to determine the symbolic meaning of their works. Due to this struggle, cultural production occurs in an arena of conflict between existing social forces, such as the economy or mainstream political ideology, and the dispositions of cultural producers who are enmeshed in a series of predetermined “positions” (Bourdieu 1993:59). This juxtaposition of producer and the fields of power require artistic creators to employ a variety of strategic or unconscious “position-takings”

(Bourdieu 1993:59) to retain their autonomy and creative vitality. Regarding this struggle between artistic creators and existing structural relations, Bourdieu (1993) states: “…the most disputed frontier… is the one which separates the field of production and the field of power”

(43). Therefore, cultural production should be viewed as being simultaneously contained within, and somewhat opposed to the field of social structural power. In other words, as Bourdieu

([1972] 1977) explains in his Outline of a Theory of Practice, cultural production involves a struggle of structure and agency in which artists employ their knowledge, position, and personal

capital as resources against the institutions, discourse, and practices of the dominant field of power (Bourdieu 1993; Lash 1993).

While cultural production appears to exist completely within the boundaries of the dominant social order, Bourdieu (1993) observes that fields of cultural production are also semi- autonomous realms governing its own internal economics and politics. Drawing from earlier observations by Adorno, Horkheimer ([1947] 2002), and Althusser (Rhodes 1994), Bourdieu

(1993) observes that, since cultural production involves a continuation of the conflict between dominant and dominated in general society, artistic fields create structural alliances in order to preserve its autonomy from the dominant structure of society (Swartz 1997). This phenomenon occurs within the indeterminate spaces where cultural production occurs, consisting of fields that are “ready to be made” (Bourdieu 1993:43) rather than being “ready made” (43). Perhaps the greatest source of autonomy available to fields of cultural production is the ability to define legitimate art; however, even within this domain, cultural producers find their power contested by the dominant order (Bourdieu 1993).

In The Fields of Cultural Production, Bourdieu (1993) identifies three arenas in which artistic legitimacy is constructed: (a) acceptance among other artistic producers, (b) recognition from the dominant class, and (c) commercial success among the mass public. Acceptance among other artistic producers represents appreciation of cultural merit within the fields of cultural production, respecting the motivation to create “…art for art’s sake” (Bourdieu 1993:51).

However, the remaining two forms of establishing cultural legitimacy are external to the cultural production field, determined by the sensibilities and tastes of the dominant class, or determined wholly by the logic of the marketplace and consumption of the general public (Bourdieu 1993).

Therefore, despite possession of capital, resources, and agency, agents in the fields of cultural

production remain bounded by the mainstream social order, a tense relationship that, as Bourdieu

(1993) describes, exists in a continual state of “flux” (30).

This state of flux has become more indeterminate in the digital age. Consumer demand for cultural products has skyrocketed. Democratization of the modes of creation and distribution of symbolic goods provides more avenues for artists to express autonomy from the dominant field of power, which can appear as an apparatus of “large scale cultural production” (Bourdieu

1985:4). Understanding these changes in the process of cultural production is now a central concern for those desiring to analyze contemporary culture. Noting the importance of cultural production in the modern era, Power and Scott (2004) indicate that wealthier societies prioritize the consumption of symbolic goods. These fundamental shifts in the economy are not surprising, as interest in symbolic consumption has overshadowed the basic economic principles of delivering basic goods and services. Instead, as Pine and Gilmore (1999) observe, the symbolic value is now a critical component of consumer activity.

Furthermore, as the demand for symbolic goods increases, the cultural production industry itself has become economically central to the employment and investing markets of most developed nations (Power and Scott 2004). In regards to job growth, the expansion of the cultural production industries provides occupational opportunities far beyond that of the artistic creators themselves in the form of intermediaries that occupy a variety of technical, bureaucratic, or functional spaces between the field of production and the field of consumption of symbolic artifacts (Negus 1992). Owing to the growth of cultural production as an occupational field and its rising position in the economy, these intermediaries have helped increase the capital, resources, and power of the artistic fields, thereby increasing its independence and autonomy against the dominant fields of power.

These changes potentially alter the relationship between cultural producers and the dominant powers. While the fields of cultural production have traditionally been in the hands of large, invested media institutions and their intermediaries, changes in information and computer technology have altered the manner in which symbolic goods are produced, distributed, and consumed. Responding to the incredible demand for symbolic goods and services, coupled with the technological ease with which these products can be digitally created, the early 21st century has witnessed the advent of a user-generated, participatory, and—to some extent—democratized field of cultural production (Manovich 2009).

This shift, in which the field of cultural production is divided between centralized and decentralized modes of production, presents a number of challenges to Bourdieu’s theory concerning the relationship between fields of power and the field of cultural production

(Hesmondhalgh 2006; 1998). This do-it-yourself style of cultural production often serves as a self-conscious critique of mainstream culture, often prioritizing freedom over commercial viability. Bourdieu (1993) would see such features as reflecting autonomy from the financial focus of the mass market (Strachan 2007). Placing artistic freedom over financial interests represents an “…inversion of the logic of the larger economy of the society” (Bourdieu

1983:311) even though the larger economy undergirds contemporary modes of cultural production in the digital age (Hesmondhalgh and Meier 2015).

CULTURAL PRODUCTION AND SPECIES OF CAPITAL

While only partially addressed in The Field of Cultural Production, Bourdieu’s theoretical work on the species of capital (1993; 1983) are central to untangling his larger thesis on cultural production. Like the concepts of habitus and field, species of capital are parts of an

interlocked, cyclical system describing the relationships between social interaction and the socio- structural fields of power (Swartz 1997). Therefore the interplay between habitus and field, as well as the composition of “specific capital” (Bourdieu 1983:321) strategically and habitually employed by agents, creates a synergistic, determinate effect on the outcome of cultural production in the cultural marketplace contained within a field of power (Warde 2016; Couldry

2004). Therefore, it is appropriate to examine the species of capital in order to better understand its place among Bourdieu’s overall thesis concerning cultural production.

Bourdieu’s species of capital arise as a supplement, or perhaps criticism, of classical definitions of capital reducing it solely an economic concept (Swartz 1997). In formulating his theory Bourdieu (1986) sought to explain the processes of inequality beyond merely wealth or class-based subordination. Typically the term capital refers to economic and financial wealth, particularly in the Marxist or critical theorist traditions. However, for Bourdieu (1986), restricting the concept of capital to economic wealth neglected many features that had emerged in modern society. Specifically Bourdieu (1986) argued that it was: “…impossible to account for the structure and functioning of the social world unless one reintroduces capital in all its forms and not solely in the one form recognized by economic theory” (46). In other words, the intensive scrutiny of economic capital has obscured other important types of resources that can be mobilized and expended.

Bourdieu (1986) does not, however, seek to forestall examination of economic capital; instead, his project was to extend the concept of capital to include its various social manifestations all placed together into an interrelated system (Swartz 1997). Thus, social domination and subordination are linked to economic and non-economic types of capital and their normal function structurally maintains and reproduces inequality (Bourdieu 1984; 1986).

Based on Bourdieu’s species of capital, less capitalized groups are ‘cut out of the loop’ in the accumulation of any type of capital, economic or social, and therefore held in a permanent state of subordination (Throsby 1999).

According to Bourdieu (1989; 1986) there are four species of capital: (a) economic capital, (b) social capital, (c) cultural capital, and (d) symbolic capital. Definitions are key to understanding Bourdieu’s species of capital. Economic capital is defined as financial wealth and property holdings. Social capital consists of networks, associations, and other relationships providing instrumental value. Cultural capital consists of knowledge, skills, acculturation and attitude mediating how an individual negotiates with the social world (Kraemer 2005; Bourdieu

1986). The last form of capital, the symbolic, equates to prestige, status or reputation providing differential treatment for the individual based on the open display of capital and power (Bourdieu

1989).

The most elementary form is economic capital. Economic capital is defined in a financial sense, such as: income, investments, valuable holdings such as property and goods, and access to credit. This is the form of capital made famous by Marx and others when discussing inequality and marginalization (Bourdieu 1986). Bourdieu (1986) notes that non-economic forms of capital are potentially capable of being transformed into economic capital. In other words, the combination of social, cultural, and symbolic capital determines the individual’s ability to accumulate economic capital. Likewise, possessing economic capital offers pathways to accrue cultural, social, or symbolic capital (Bourdieu 1989; 1986; 1984).

Going beyond economic capital, Bourdieu (1986) also identified social capital as a species of capital. Bourdieu (1986) defines social capital as being “…made up of social obligations” (47) that form a complex network of connections that can be converted to “…actual

or potential resources” (51). Examples of social capital include the family, an exclusive social club, or professional organizations that are based on material, social, and symbolic exchanges

(Bourdieu 1986:51). Through a continuous series of long-term exchanges social capital is affirmed and reaffirmed, resulting in a wellspring of new resources—both material and immaterial—that provide utility and access to other types of capital, including economic (O’Hara

2000; Bourdieu 1986). Social capital consists of the network of associates, family members, contacts and other persons allowing access to other forms of capital (Bourdieu 1986). In many ways social capital consists of ‘knowing people’ capable of providing advice, services, mentoring, assistance or introduction to other social networks. Thus, social capital consists of networks, associations, and other relationships providing instrumental value.

The third species within Bourdieu’s (1986) system is cultural capital. Cultural capital, perhaps the most complex of Bourdieu’s (1986) forms of capital, consists of knowledge, skills, acculturation and ‘attitude’ allowing an individual to negotiate with the social world. In general, cultural capital consists of pragmatic knowledge of the ‘rules of the game’ (Swartz 1997) governing specific fields. There are three ‘states’ of cultural capital: (a) the embodied state, (b) the objectified state, and (c) the institutionalized state (Bourdieu 1986:47). Cultural capital in the embodied state exists as a “…long-lasting disposition of the mind and body” (Bourdieu

1986:47). Embodied capital is a type of “distinction” (Bourdieu 1984) that signifies culture and upper class group membership through poise, carriage and posture. This “work on oneself”

(Bourdieu 1986:48) is truly embodied in one’s physical form. Embodied cultural capital also presumes a level of sacrifice and investment—it may never be acquired “second hand” (48) such as purchasing clothing or other artifacts to signify membership in a particular social group.

Instead, embodied capital “lives and dies” (Bourdieu 1986:48) with its bearer. In simpler terms,

this state represents the impact of different cultural experiences and upbringing that is embodied within the individual. Embodied capital is therefore a socially perceptible result of power relations and culture inscribed in the person.

Unlike embodied capital, the objectified state of capital exists materially and separately from the body (Bourdieu 1986:48). Objectified capital consists of material artifacts and objects ranging from media such as books and writings, artworks such as paintings or sculptures, and other material items imbued with cultural capital (Bourdieu 1984; 1986). Cultural capital existing in the objectified state may be freely transmitted through sale and ownership, yet conveys powerful signification of an “…autonomous, coherent universe…” (Bourdieu 1986:50) that both hides and signifies a particular social-historical relationship. In other words, objectified capital signals a complex array of relationships, both temporal and historical, rooted in the power dynamics of the culture in which it is enmeshed (Bourdieu 1986). In this way material items are able to convey status, meaning, and—as Bourdieu (1984) argues in his pivotal work

Distinction—part of an apparatus designed to reinforce and reproduce current social relations of power, dominance, and subordination.

The final state that cultural capital may take is the institutionalized state. Institutionalized capital consists of “legally guaranteed qualifications” (Bourdieu 1986:50) of competence conveying social meaning within a particular culture. The ideal form of institutionalized capital is the academic degree, which signifies its bearer has met a minimum standard of knowledge and skills. An important factor of institutionalized cultural capital is its origin—which must be formally issued by a legitimate institution separate from the individual (Bourdieu 1986). Once acquired, institutionalized capital provides cultural resources through the “collective magic”

(Bourdieu 1986:50-51) of group association. When granted, institutional capital becomes

“…officially recognized, guaranteed” compared to contestable, non-institutionalized forms of cultural capital (Bourdieu 1986:51-52). Examples of institutionalized cultural capital include professional licensure, educational degrees, membership in exclusive or occupational groups, and other associations that project knowledge, cultural competence, or skill.

The last species of capital described by Bourdieu is symbolic capital. Symbolic capital consists of accumulated honor, respect, and value an individual has acquired in relation to the symbolic meanings constructed by the prevailing social structure (Bourdieu 1989). The definition of symbolic capital, according to Bourdieu (1989:17), is: “…the form that the various species of capital assume when they are perceived and recognized as legitimate.” In other words, acquisition of symbolic capital rests upon the accumulation of economic, cultural, and social capital and putting it on display in a manner that is intelligible to the dominant field of power.

Bourdieu (1990) notes that symbolic capital is critical to decoding social interaction since the primary manner that agents perceive one another is through status, which is communicated symbolically. This is especially important since social groups construct their meanings through the employment of symbols, including abstract ideas such as honor or prestige (Bourdieu 1979).

Owing to this open presentation of other species of capital, there is a sense of pageantry and performance assumed in the employment of symbolic capital (Bourdieu and Wacquant 2013).

Furthermore, symbolic capital is exercised through the legitimate use of power. Likewise, symbolic status can legitimate behavior, constructing strategies that inequality can be concealed

(Bourdieu 1990). Lastly, the concept of symbolic capital is central to Bourdieu’s earlier conception of symbolic violence, a condition in which symbolic capital is utilized to demean, dominate, or otherwise degrade persons (Weininger 2005).

Capital and the Career in Hip-Hop Cultural Production

In regards to hip-hop cultural production, artistic careers can be understood as a type of entrepreneurial activity requiring a degree of social and personal capitalization. Research by

Poschke (2012) identifies a pair of factors strongly related to entrepreneurial activity—necessity created by a lack of job opportunity yet access to alternative capital resources. While hip-hop requires financial investment on behalf of the artist, the degree of economic capital required is minimal compared to most traditional business start-ups (Schumaker 1995). Like other types of artistic careers hip-hop requires its own particular skill sets, codes, and logic in order to be properly performed (Krims 2000). In other words, there is an entirely new set of cultural capital that must be mastered, in order to achieve a successful career in hip-hop (Persaud 2006; Lopes

2000). In artistic fields the ability to display a particularly marketable form of cultural capital is critical for success (Clay 2003; Bourdieu 1993). Within the hip-hop genre being “black” and embodying “the street” can be seen as a type of cultural capital important to success (Harrison

2008; Kraemer 2005; Kitwana 2002).

The relationship between the lack of cultural capital and diminished career opportunities for African Americans contextualizes one pattern by which racial inequality is often reproduced.

Bourdieu placed importance on cultural capital as a medium in which social power is mobilized.

Cultural capital consists of a variety of embodied, objectified or institutionalized resources one may employ within a given social context (Swartz 1997).

A central idea of Bourdieu (1986) is that non-economic forms of capital are ultimately transferrable to economic capital. For example, cultural capital such as a college degree allows access to better-paying jobs and more money—the college degree has ‘transformed’ itself into

economic capital (Throsby 1999). Thus, according to Bourdieu (1993; 1986), all non-economic forms of capital have the potential to transfer into economic capital.

Research indicates, however, that the transfer of capital for African Americans is less certain than for other non-minority groups (Young 1999). Furthermore, species of capital appear to have less ‘value’ for African Americans than other non-marginalized groups. For example, displays of cultural distinctions unique to African American students have been associated with lower academic evaluations compared to the degree of cultural capital possessed (Gaddis 2013).

Regarding the acquisition of capital, empirical evidence suggests that, due to racial subordination, African Americans are often barred from developing the economic, cultural, and social resources necessary for success in the conventional employment market (Andres et al.

1999; Wilson 1978). This lack of capitalization creates a self-reproducing system of workplace inequality in which African Americans are disproportionately disadvantaged and relegated to the lower rungs of the economic sphere (Alford 1999).

In regards to African Americans, Young (1999) indicates that access to social capital is highly racialized in the United States, with African Americans generally possessing low amounts of social capital and few avenues in which to accumulate the additional social capital needed to be economically competitive, a finding also confirmed a generation earlier by Elder (1985).

These racial and ethnic inequalities are reproduced in avenues other than the family such as education (Lareau and McCrory-Calarco 2012). These differences persist over time, from generation to generation, systematically disadvantaging African Americans across a wide range of occupational fields including hip-hop (Gaddis 2012; Yosso 2005; Blackburn and Prandy

1997).

Additionally, the way in which cultural capital manifests in black communities differs from the way it manifests in conventional white society (Yosso 2005). With reference to

Bourdieu’s conception of cultural capital, African Americans have lesser access to cultural capital (Lamont 2000; Young 1999; Duneier 1992). This lack of mainstream cultural capital has been cited as a reason African Americans exhibit poor educational and occupational success compared to whites (Affschaffenburg and Ineke 1997; Dimaggio 1982). Despite being poor in

‘dominant’ cultural capital, black communities value different types of cultural capital such as racial authenticity or toughness (Jackson 2001). Thus, African American communities have developed alternate cultural responses to mainstream cultural capital—a differential, subcultural, system of capital (Carter 2003).

While some capital comes from the community, one of the largest contributors to an individual’s capital is the family (Edwards, Franklin, and Holland 2003; Turner and Lapan 2002;

Elder 1985). Occupational readiness is a type of achievement requiring years of prior socialization and cultural preparation, much of which originates from the family (Banks 2012;

Whiston and Keller 2004; Birk and Blimline 1984). Hout and Rosen (2000) find that family socialization is critical for providing the necessary knowledge to succeed in endeavors such as hip-hop, where the individual is essentially a self-employed freelance worker. Furthermore,

Crozier (2010) indicates that preparation for artistic careers such as hip-hop is often intergenerational, as the necessary musical skills and aesthetic taste needed are often passed from parent or other close relative to the recipient.

Despite the relative lack of access to cultural capital in the black community, hip-hop cultural production is a demanding field in which success requires the mobilization of resources and cultivation of capital on behalf of participants. Like other types of cultural production

careers, hip-hop requires its own particular skill sets, codes, and logic in order to be authentically performed (Kitwana 2002). In other words, there is an entirely new set of cultural capital that must be acquired, such as the necessary technical and performance skills, in order to achieve a successful career in hip-hop (Sherlock 2014; Persaud 2006; Wassall and Alper 1992).

Cultural capital consists of an embodied sense of style or distinction that communicates social position, class location, and a particular philosophy of life (Bourdieu 1986). In artistic fields the ability to display a marketable form of cultural capital is critical for success

(Hesmondhalgh 1999). Furthermore, high levels of cultural capital provide the ability to recognize financial opportunities that may be missed by persons with less cultural awareness

(Throsby 1999). Within the hip-hop genre being ‘black’ and embodying a ‘street style’ can be seen as a type of cultural capital important for success within that field (Atkinson 2011; Harrison

2008; Watkins 2005).

Linking Bourdieu’s theoretical definitions to the cultural aspects of hip-hop is central to this study. Economic capital, the simplest type to conceptualize, here refers to access to money and material resources needed to “start up” and maintain a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Examples of areas in which economic capital may be influential include: musical lessons or other artistic lessons, purchasing of musical equipment, access to studio time or building a home studio for recording, having saleable or demo material ‘pressed’ into professional marketable material

(typically CD’s), hiring professional producers, or paying more established, famous artist to

‘guest’ on tracks.

Cultural capital is more difficult to conceptualize, as it exists in a number of forms that potentially intrudes upon definitions of subcultural capital. Bourdieu (1986) defines cultural capital as existing in the embodied, institutional, or objective state. For the hip-hop cultural

producer embodied capital could include ephemera such as having a ‘street swagger’ of racial authenticity, knowledge of ‘the game’ and its particular hip-hop lexicon, an internalized sense of the hip-hop aesthetics vital to creating and performing in a credible manner, or as a sense of the interaction rituals involved with music production, including business dealings with the professional music industry. On the other hand, institutional capital, due to its ‘square’ connotation, may possibly be devalued within the world of hip-hop cultural production—after all, there is no formal degree guaranteeing a career within the hip-hop world. Some hip-hop artists may have received formal training in instruments or recording technology. The possession of musical awards—from winning a Grammy or being recognized in the Ohio Hip Hop

Awards—does convey a sense of institutional capital that grants the holder a special status.

Membership in various exclusive, honorary musical organizations such as the National Academy of Recording Arts and Sciences can convey additional status and resources.

Social capital useful to the hip-hop artist includes their network of collaborators, technicians, associates, family members, and other social ties instrumental to their music career.

Of particular importance are connections into the music business such as analysis and repertoire

(A&R) scouts, professional producers, regional or national concert promoters, celebrity artists, and other professional contacts within the industry.

In addition to the way that capital manifests for cultural producers, the demands of the hip-hop career are different from conventional employment, and entry into that field potentially requires different types of capital in order to be successful in that endeavor (Harrison 2008; Hess

2005). Thus, African Americans possessing the necessary cultural capital to compete within the hip-hop marketplace may estimate their chances for success within that field are greater than in the conventional working world (Menger 1999; Stratton 1983). The decision to enter into a

career in hip-hop can be seen as economically rational and entrepreneurial in its mobilization of cultural capital to compete in the artistic labor market, intending to transfer a non-economic form of capital into economic capital (Throsby 1999; c.f. Bourdieu 1986). In broad terms, this type of career self-awareness is only possible for those possessing sufficient and varied capital (Wee and

Brooks 2010). In other words, the decision to enter into a hip-hop career is both reflexive and strategic, indicating awareness of suitability within that occupational field compared to other fields of employment (Wassall and Alper 1992).

Importantly, the process in which African Americans decide to pursue careers in hip-hop rather than conventional occupations is poorly understood (Krims 2000; Menger 1999). Research by Donnay and Bergen (1999) suggest that an individual interest in having an artistic career is the most salient predictive factor for choosing an occupation like hip-hop. However, due to the instability and low pay of creative work, choosing hip-hop as a career represents a curious economic choice, especially if it is chosen in lieu of more stable and higher paying occupations

(Wassall and Alper 1992).

Another hypothesis is that black youth choose careers in hip-hop due to the unavailability of conventional forms of work, hip-hop here functioning as an "escape" from lower class socioeconomic conditions (Carter 2003). Theories such as those forwarded by Kitwana (2002) echo earlier work by Merton (1938) concerning occupational anomie, where individuals denied conventional career opportunities may innovate counter-normative, possibly deviant, means of success. Unfortunately, such inquiries fail to acknowledge the importance of socialization and resources for occupational choice and success—a recurrent theme of investigations examining

African American failure to thrive economically (Staples 1985; Banks 2012).

Like other artistic fields, the field of hip-hop is not an ‘equal opportunity employer’; it requires a specialized set of skills, dispositions, and capital in order to successfully compete within that field (Black 2014; Manturzewska 1990). Specifically, aspirational hip-hop cultural producers require knowledge, acculturation of cultural codes, credibility, and economic resources to be successful professionally (Stratton 1983). In other words, to achieve a career navigating the field of hip-hop cultural production requires the cultivation of a specific habitus and acquisition of capital. However, research has not yet considered how readily these types of cultural capital transform into financial rewards within a hip-hop career.

SUBCULTURAL CAPITAL

While Bourdieu provides a rich accounting of the social implications of capital, his theories have been criticized as being too deterministic and failing to account for cultural resistance mounted by non-elite actors in society. On the most fundamental level of criticism,

Desan (2007) observes that Bourdieu “…tends to take the economic field and economic capital for granted” (318) by conceptualizing a system that is far more directly causal than exists in reality. In a similar vein, Goldthorpe (2007) notes that Bourdieu fails to completely account for subordinated groups resisting their disadvantaged status and creating their own reserves of cultural capital. Furthermore, Bourdieu has been accused of ignoring the impact of historical changes and trends on the dominant power field that create potential ‘rifts’ for less capitalized groups to acquire capital (Gartman 1991). In addition, Bourdieu fails to account for cultural wealth that arises in subordinated communities, enabling resistance and potential transcendence of the existing fields of power (Yosso 2005; Giroux 1983). Lastly, there is an assumption of a single, monolithic dominant culture that is the sole determiner of the suitability, applicability, and value of all types of non-economic capital. This assumption defies the intergroup meaning-

creation and subcultural status-construction of non-dominant groups in the real world (Kelly et al. 2015; O’Connor 2004). In short, elements of Bourdieu’s theory can tend to overly subordinate persons, denying them agency while simultaneously overemphasizing the dominant field of power as unquestioningly triumphant.

To address these omissions by Bourdieu, Sarah Thornton developed the theoretical concept of subcultural capital in her study of British dance club culture (1996; 1995).

Subcultural capital operates similarly to Bourdieu’s cultural capital except that it exists outside of the mainstream and is internal to the social world of the particular subculture from which it emerges. Subcultural capital is “…a sub-species of capital operating within other less privileged domains” (Thornton 1995:202). For Thornton (1996) subcultural capital manifests as a “taste culture” (3) that, within the subculture, is ‘hip’ by not being part of the dominant, mainstream culture. Subcultural capital serves a similar purpose as cultural capital in mainstream society as it ranks and orders members, operating in a hierarchal fashion, by taste. Thus, subcultural capital establishes the “distinction of cultures without distinction” (Thornton 1996:1), without reference to the host culture. The social value of subcultural capital is highly contextual, only conveying status “…in the eyes of the relevant beholder” rather than among the general populace governed by the conventions of dominant society (Thornton 1995:2-3). Subcultural capital, therefore, serves the functions of establishing and conferring status, prestige, meaning, and even values within a subculture.

There are a number of parallels between Thornton’s concept of subcultural capital and cultural capital as explained by Bourdieu. First, as mentioned earlier, subcultural capital communicates and conveys social status, albeit in a limited, subcultural group-focused form

(Thornton 1996; 1995). Like cultural capital, subcultural capital is capable of being transformed

into economic capital, albeit in a less direct fashion. Thornton (1996:12) notes that: “…a variety of occupations and incomes can be gained as a result of ‘hipness’” resulting from having a wealth of subcultural capital. Furthermore, despite its limitations, the transferability of subcultural capital is not nearly as “class bound” (Thornton 1995:203) as cultural capital, meaning that the exercise of subcultural capital potentially offers financial opportunities outside, or in defiance of, the existing class hierarchy. In addition to granting status and affording transferability, subcultural capital manifests as sub-categories in a similar fashion as cultural capital, capable of assuming embodied and objectified forms (Thornton 1995).

While subcultural capital has many similarities to Bourdieu’s cultural capital, there are two key differences resulting from the subordinated status of subcultural groups—its relationship to the host culture and bonds to the media. First, subcultures orient themselves as cultural opposites of the mainstream culture, representing “authenticity” versus the “phoney” mainstream

(Thornton 1996:3; Fine 1979). This allows for members to foster self-defined subcultural identities and ideologies that provide “alternative interpretations” (Thornton 1996:5) of the social world. Secondly, the ‘hipness’ of cultural capital is highly dependent on media transference and communication. In explaining the difference between Bourdieu’s cultural capital and subcultural capital, Thornton (1995) states the media is a primary factor: “…the difference between being in or out of fashion, high or low in subcultural capital, correlates in complex ways with degrees of media coverage, creation and exposure” (14). Furthermore, Thornton (1996) argues that the media, and culturally produced artifacts, should be understood to function as symbolic goods, signs of distinction, and also vehicles that are “…crucial to the definition and distribution of cultural knowledge” (13-14), particularly subcultural knowledge. Consequently, due to this close association between subcultural groups and the media, it is vital that the media consumption of

subcultural groups be studied in order to illuminate the meaning and status of subcultural capital

(Thornton 1996).

Subcultural Capital and Hip-Hop Cultural Production

The concept of subcultural capital opens up new avenues for understanding the relationship between subcultures, such as that of the African American community, and cultural production. The theoretical innovation of subcultural capital offers potential resources for studying a cultural form such as hip-hop that is so closely interwoven with African American experience as a subordinated racial group. Specifically, we can ask how does ‘non-standard’ cultural capital unique to the black subcultural experience, such as having a criminal record or a

‘street’ reputation, contribute to hip-hop cultural production? Furthermore, does subcultural capital transform, in the way that Bourdieu (1986) characterizes his non-economic forms of capital, into economic capital? In other words, what is the association between African American subcultural capital and economic success as a hip-hop cultural producer?

It is therefore important to ask how readily does subcultural capital transform into status and financial rewards within a hip-hop career? While traditional species of capital appear to only partially transfer for African Americans in conventional occupations, how does subcultural capital transfer for hip-hop artists? Conventional forms of capital—such as educational attainment—do not appear to readily transfer in establishing a hip-hop career, as hip-hop is a subcultural art form drawing from differing cultural values (Persaud 2006; Schumaker 1995).

Hip-hop appears to draw from African American subculture (Way et al. 2013). As such, negative life events or attributes such as having a criminal record, being a victim of a noteworthy crime,

or having a reputation for criminal gang or drug involvement, may provide a type of subcultural capital for establishing and maintaining a hip-hop career (Gibson 2014).

Can this subcultural capital unique to African Americans transfer into economic remuneration for hip-hop artists especially rich in subcultural capital, as Thornton (1995) suggests is possible for select ‘tastemakers’ of the United Kingdom rave scene? While there are a number of related, overlapping fields that intersect with hip-hop, the most important ‘code’ for an aspirational artist to know is that of their chosen musical genre. For hip-hop this means the artist displays the subcultural modes of speech, dress, behavior and aesthetic taste that conforms to subcultural standards. Theoretically, hip-hop artists lacking subcultural capital predictably would be disadvantaged seeking a career in hip-hop cultural production (Way et al. 2013).

The empirical forms of subcultural capital to be explored by this project are poorly understood in the current literature. However, drawing from Bourdieu’s (1986) framework of cultural capital, we can look for three forms of subcultural capital to possibly exist: embodied, institutional, and objectified. Embodied subcultural capital would include authentic usage of black patois and lexicon, performance of a credible ‘street’ carriage and body language, display of important subcultural signifiers (such as “gang signs”) appropriate for the neighborhood or region, as well as knowledge of hip-hop interactions and the history of the music genre.

Institutional subcultural capital is, by its nature, more problematic to define based on the understanding that institutional capital is granted by legitimate, mainstream organizations.

However, among subcultures “official” institutions are unlikely to carry sufficient authority to grant subcultural capital.

Institutional groups considered credible by the subcultural may be the only third party organizations capable of bestowing subcultural capital. A noteworthy counterexample is likely to

be organizations within the music industry may also convey subcultural capital. For example, having a record deal with Aftermath Entertainment, the record label owned and managed by hip- hop mogul Dr. Dre, could potentially provide incredible amounts of subcultural capital. One possibility for institutional subcultural capital among the hip-hop community is gang affiliation because of the longstanding presence of street gangs as a part of urban African American life, and the authenticity granted to celebrity hip-hop artists such as Snoop Dog (Rollin’ 20 Crips) or

Game (Cedar Block Bloods) for having gang affiliations.

Objectified capital pertains to material objects. While there may be considerable overlap between objectified subcultural capital and mainstream capital, it is also suspected that there are considerable differences in terms of their objectified cultural value and significance.

Theoretically, Bourdieu (1984) indicates that the monetary value of an object is inconsequential compared to what it symbolically conveys about its owner in a particular social context. In mainstream society a platinum dog tag studded with diamonds, while worth 10,000 dollars, would not convey the same objectified capital as, for example, an equally valued Patek Philippe gold watch. Thus, an entire array of potential objectified subcultural capital exists in the black community, from particular clothing brands, to types of alcohol, jewelry, and metallic mouthpieces (“grills”).

SUMMARY OF THE LITERATURE

Since its development in the late 1970’s, the cultural form of hip-hop has gained international prominence (Kitwana 2005; Watkins 2005). Hip-hop culture consists of a wide variety of artistic and cultural expressions reflecting the experience of African Americans as a racially oppressed minority (Bonilla-Silva 2006). Because hip-hop matured within a landscape of

racial inequality and marginality faced by African Americans, its cultural practices and norms reflect those struggles, positioning hip-hop as a type of cultural resistance (Gallagher 2003;

Stapleton 1998; Hebdige 1979). The study of cultural forms such as hip-hop potentially reveals deeper insights into how inequality and marginality are reproduced in contemporary society

(Asante 2008; Chang 2005).

Hip-hop encompasses numerous cultural forms, but is most commonly associated with the cultural products of hip-hop music. As a cultural product conveying symbolic meaning, hip- hop music is governed by the professional music industry (c.f. Bourdieu 1983). Hip-hop cultural production is further structured by the surrounding dominant culture (Petti 2006; Negus 1996; c.f. Bourdieu 1983). Occupationally, hip-hop cultural production can be understood as a career requiring specialized knowledge and resources in order to be successful (Clay 2003; Bourdieu

1993). Hip-hop careers typically involve cultural production in one or more roles such as MC’s,

DJ’s, or producers (Awad 2014; Asante 2008; Chang 2005).

The creation of cultural products, however, occurs within a specified field (Bourdieu

1993). The field of cultural production, where symbolic goods like hip-hop are created, is not an autonomous realm (Bourdieu [1972] 1977). Instead, cultural production is a field of power structured by existing social relations where cultural producers struggle for autonomy within their careers (Bourdieu 1993; 1983). For cultural producers, navigating the field of cultural production requires strategic employment of economic and non-economic resources broadly understood as species of capital (Bourdieu 1993; 1983). For hip-hop cultural producers, most of whom are undercapitalized due to historical racial oppression, this relationship between the species of capital and the field of cultural production is of critical interest for understanding how underprivileged groups produce culture (Pough 2015; Krims 2000; Throsby 1999).

To better understand the field of hip-hop cultural production closer examination of the species of capital is warranted. Bourdieu (1989; 1986) outlines a theoretical framework describing the species of capital undergirded by economic relations. A key observation by

Bourdieu (1989; 1986) is the transferability of non-economic species of capital into economic capital. The species of capital consist of social capital, cultural capital, and economic capital

(Bourdieu 1986). Social capital consists of membership in groups conferring access to resources.

Cultural capital broadly refers to knowledge, certifications, dispositions, attitudes, and symbolic objects more or less reflecting and indicating social position. Lastly, economic capital encompasses financial wealth such as income, investments, and property. For hip-hop cultural producers, competition within the field of cultural production involves acquisition, accumulation, and strategic exercise of the species of capital in an effort to transfer these resources into a career.

While the species of capital are potentially vital for hip-hop cultural production, hip-hop artists may potentially leverage black subculture as an additional resource. This subcultural capital (Thornton 1996; 1995), the dispositions and attitudes unique to a subculture, potentially constitutes an additional resource for hip-hop cultural production. It is unknown what role, if any, that subcultural capital plays in the field of hip-hop cultural production. Owing to the subcultural origins of hip-hop, further research would be needed to understand how conventional species of capital and subcultural capital contribute or not to individuals’ positions and mobility within hip-hop.

CHAPTER III

METHODOLOGY

To explore the relationship between the species of capital, including subcultural capital, and the cultural production of hip-hop, qualitative research methodologies have been selected.

Qualitative research, as defined by Strauss and Corbin (1998), are methods producing findings through descriptive means by examination of the lived experiences, cultural practices, and symbolic meanings of a specific social group. I have chosen qualitative methods for this project due to their suitability for gathering and analyzing data on small group life such as that of hip- hop cultural producers (Lofland and Lofland 1995; Fine 1979). Furthermore, as very little is known about the cultural production of hip-hop music, another advantage to employing qualitative methodologies for this project is their appropriateness for examining understudied social groups (Morse 1994).

The specific qualitative method employed for this study is semi-structured interviews.

Semi-structured interviews are used to gather data about the lived experiences and meanings of the participants’ social interaction. Interviews, in which participants are allowed to respond to questions and discuss at length their personal lived experiences, become another potential site where knowledge about the social world under investigation is constructed and collected

(Charmaz 2004; Holstein and Gubrium 1995).

Theoretical Foundations

This research seeks to qualitatively understand the relationships between Bourdieu’s species of capital, subcultural capital, and the cultural production of hip-hop music. The theoretical assumptions underlying this research are grounded in Bourdieu’s (1986) theory of capital, which expands the concept of capital to include social and cultural resources and positions beyond the restrictive conventional focus on economic factors. Bourdieu’s theory of cultural production—in which the creation of symbolic goods and services must be understood as operating within a particular field of power—provides a framework in which to study hip-hop cultural production. Lastly, as this study examines the cultural production of hip-hop music,

Sarah Thornton’s supplemental work on subcultural capital was employed to provide additional insight into aspects of this phenomenon that may be uniquely African American.

While Bourdieu wrote extensively on the relationships between institutions and the production of cultural goods, critics have noted that his examinations of cultural production omit two important aspects: (a) non-institutional cultural production, and (b) artistic fields other than literature and fine art (Park 2014; Hesmondhalgh 2006). This research study addresses each omission by qualitatively assessing the relationships between the various species of capital and subcultural capital and hip-hop cultural production outside of the formal music industry.

Research Aims

This qualitative study seeks to describe the relationships between forms of capital, subcultural capital, and the careers of hip-hop cultural producers. Due to the history of racial subordination that African Americans experience, their ability to accumulate capital resources is curtailed, creating disadvantages for pursuing occupational goals, including careers in cultural

production. As an artistic form, hip-hop is a uniquely African American cultural phenomenon that references and draws from black cultural beliefs and practices strongly informed by their history of racial oppression. Despite hip-hop’s fundamental connection to African American culture, its successful cultural production requires a constellation of social and personal resources including economic, cultural, and social capital.

Two primary questions arise: first, given the relative lack of access to capital in the black community and the necessity of capital for engaging in the cultural production of hip-hop—what is the relationship between the cultural production of hip-hop music and the species of capital outlined by Bourdieu? Second, how does African American subcultural capital relate to the cultural production of hip-hop? Can subcultural capital compensate for deficiencies of traditional capital for the cultural production of hip-hop? Is subcultural capital an essential component of success within that artistic field?

This study has three primary aims regarding the cultural production of hip-hop and the species of capital: (a) to describe the field and habitus of hip-hop music cultural production, (b) to delineate the relationships between economic, cultural, and social capital and hip-hop music cultural production, and (c) to catalog the influences of subcultural capital within hip-hop cultural production.

Prior research (Harrison 2008; Carter 2003) has examined hip-hop as an artistic and cultural phenomenon. No studies to date, however, have qualitatively explored the occupational process of becoming an amateur or professional hip-hop cultural producer in regards to the influence of different types of capital. This approach contributes to the understanding of hip-hop cultural production as a career requiring specific dispositions, knowledge, skills sets, social networks, training, and cultural knowledge. It therefore illuminates the field of cultural

production for hip-hop music, the nature of the habitus required to navigate the hip-hop field, and also the types of social and cultural capital, as well as the type of subcultural capital, needed to pursue a career in hip-hop. Furthermore, this approach addresses how hip-hop cultural producers use these dispositions and capital in their careers. Lastly, the study will suggest what types of non-economic capital transfer to economic capital in the form of earnings or wealth from hip-hop cultural production, as Bourdieu’s theory would imply.

SAMPLING STRATEGY

The sample target population for this study is African Americans currently participating in the cultural production of hip-hop music. Due to the specialized nature of this study, as well as the rarity of hip-hop artists among the general population, it is unwarranted to seek a generalized sample. Instead, a non-probability sample (Singleton and Straits 2005) was gathered consisting solely of African Americans over the age of 18 currently engaged in the cultural production of hip-hop music. The sample frame excluded non-African Americans because the primary research questions pertain to the racialization of capital and its relationship to hip-hop cultural production.

Furthermore, due to ethical concerns, this study excluded persons below the age of majority; therefore, all participants in this project are at least eighteen years of age.

The target sample size is twenty-five to thirty African American participants over the age of eighteen who are currently engaged in the cultural production of hip-hop music. Standard practices in qualitative research indicate that a sample size of approximately twenty-five to thirty persons is large enough so that pertinent qualitative themes can be identified and analyzed

(Handwerker and Wozniak 1997). The participants were selected based on the needs of this research and the professional judgment of the principal investigator for an individual’s inclusion

into the sample, thus making it a purposive sample (Glaser and Strauss 1967). By using an informed decision-making process and expert judgment, investigators can improve the quality of a research project by selectively choosing which informants to include within the sample (Harsh

2011).

Participant Recruitment Strategies

Recruiting participants into a study is a critical part of the research process, particularly when studying subcultures that can be difficult to gain entrance to such as hip-hop cultural producers (Hodkinson 2005). While entry into the world of hip-hop cultural production is daunting, my previous work as a music producer provided an excellent springboard into this investigation. First, having long-term affiliations with hip-hop cultural producers and their social setting provided entry into various field sites such as recording studios and live performance venues. Secondly, through years of exposure to the professional world of hip-hop production, I have acquired familiarity with the unique social world and settings of hip-hop cultural producers

(c.f. Yount 1991). This corresponds with Lofland and Lofland’s (1995) advice that researchers should “start where you are” (9) when approaching the social world. In other words, the personal biographies of qualitative researchers often inform the research process, providing background and critical links from researcher to research topics. Therefore, having previous encounters with these types of behaviors allows the researcher to create a balance of secrecy and trust with the participants in order to gain access to privileged, valuable data (Fine and Holyfield 1996).

Recruitment

For this project, recruitment relied upon convenience and snowball sampling to identify potential participants. First, due to my contacts and prior associations with hip-hop cultural producers, a convenience sample was taken among those eligible persons that are personally known to me. A convenience sample, a type of non-probability sample, is drawn from the most accessible and easiest persons for an investigator to contact (Singleton and Straits 2005). Based on my background work in hip-hop cultural production, I contacted eight potential participants living within Ohio, United States of America, who are currently engaged in the field of hip-hop cultural production. Of these potential informants, five individuals agreed to participate in this study and provide assistance in locating additional participants: three in Cleveland, one in Akron, and one in Toledo.

In order to locate additional participants beyond the initial convenience sample, a snowball technique was employed. Snowball sampling relies upon using participants already recruited into the study to voluntarily provide additional contacts, people they personally know within the social group who may be interested in participating in the study (Singleton and Straits

2005). The use of snowball sampling to identify new participants is appropriate for this study, due to the small number of hip-hop artists among the general population and the relatively

“tight” nature of the hip-hop community in which members are often aware of one another. Two participants located in Cleveland referred me to an additional six participants. Furthermore, one participant from Akron referred me to a hip-hop artist and promoter in Cincinnati who actively assisted me in contacting an additional five participants. Lastly, one participant in Toledo referred two additional participants who agreed to be included in this study.

Initial recruitment amongst the convenience sample, and the subsequent snowball references, yielded a total of nineteen participants. To supplement the initial round of recruitment, announcements were placed on social media seeking additional participants for this study. Message posts were placed on a number of public and closed Facebook groups promoting local hip-hop artists in Ohio. These efforts yielded an additional ten participants who agreed to be interviewed for this study: four in Akron, three in Columbus, and one in Cleveland. Among the participants who were recruited online, two informants in Columbus each referred another local participant; additionally, one of the Columbus participants also provided information to contact an informant in Akron. This brought the sum of participants recruited into the study to a total of thirty participants

DATA COLLECTION

Data collection is the systematic gathering of information through observation and measurement of the natural or social world in pursuit of answering research questions. In this study, semi-structured interviews were used to gather data. In this type of research, data is gathered in face-to-face interactions with participants in their natural social world, broadly understood as ‘being in the field’ (Becker 1996; Atkinson 1990; Altheide 1987). While the majority of data were collected in the field, some participants chose to conduct their interview over the telephone, a method that Sturges and Hanrahan (2004) considers appropriate for qualitative research due to its flexibility at producing results of similar quality compared to those of face-to-face interviews.

Due to the reflexive nature of qualitative research, data collection and analysis typically occur simultaneously (Merriam 1998). Furthermore, as there are few studies of the cultural production of hip-hop music, elements of a modified grounded theory approach were employed

(Charmaz 2014; Glaser and Strauss 1967). In this approach theoretical frames are developed simultaneously with the collection of data. This means that the focus of data collection was adapted to account for new insights as the research unfolded (Marshall and Rossman 1989). This adaptive data collection process continued until “data saturation” (Charmaz 2000:520) was reached. Lastly, since qualitative research is an open-ended process, categories were developed during data collection as new information became available. In this fashion, qualitative research allows investigators to develop new insights that are reactive to the data being collected (Saldaña

2013; Patton 2001).

The data collection process for this study focused on a number of key theoretical concepts involving hip-hop cultural production. Data was gathered in order to describe the habitus and field of hip-hop cultural producers (aim 1) and examine the relationships between their creative output and social, cultural, economic, and subcultural capital (aims 2 and 3).

Economic capital includes financial resources, such as money or credit, available to the participant, either held personally or available to them from family, friends, or other sources.

Indicators of economic capital include wages or salary, and earnings from their hip-hop career such as album sales, royalties from songwriting, and live performance income. Economic capital is of interest as it may be used as ‘start up’ financing towards an artistic career, for example, paying for recording studio time, purchasing equipment, and so forth.

Cultural capital is identified as knowledge and dispositions that are reflective of the embodied, objectified, or institutionalized resources recognized by mainstream society.

Indications of cultural capital include disposition and normative ‘white middle class’ speaking patterns, educational degrees, material possessions such as a luxury automobile or fashionable

clothes, and other signs of distinction associated with the dominant social class or mainstream cultural notions of status.

Social capital is defined as transactional networks of social connections that may be accessed to increase one’s power, agency, or privilege in the mainstream society. Examples of social capital include having “connections” with privileged individuals, and access to the professional music industry.

Subcultural capital, as defined by Thornton (1995), includes resources, symbolic and material, that are important to a subculture, such as hip-hop. The specifics of subcultural capital for the African American and hip-hop communities have not been inventoried by researchers.

Furthermore, prior research suggests that the subcultural capital valued by the hip-hop community ranges from the quiet respectability of the black working class explored in Slim’s

Table (Duneier 1992) to the command of respect described by Elijah Anderson (1999) in Code of the Street.

Interviews

Data were gathered using semi-structured interviews. An interview method was selected because it allows the researcher to directly ask participants questions relevant to their experiences as hip-hop cultural producers. Each interview was scheduled to last sixty to ninety minutes in length. Interviews and re-interviews were conducted in an environment the participant chose and found comfortable enough to engage in private discussion. Based on the amount of data gathered, some participants were interviewed multiple times at the discretion of the principal investigator and participant. Consequently, deeper relationships were developed

between researcher and participants, relationships that were conducive to revealing the most pertinent data (Lofland and Lofland 1995:37).

Data collected consisted of memories, personal narratives, life histories, work history, social meanings ascribed by the individual, and other information. Each interview was audio recorded using an Apple iPad or iPhone running audio recording software (Rev: Rev.com). The advantage to this recording system was that, in the event of hardware failure on the iPad, the interviewer was able to use an iPhone as a backup. Select interviews were conducted by telephone at the participants’ request; in these situations the conversation was audio recorded using Voice Recorder App (Rev.com), software designed specifically for this purpose. During the interviews notes were taken to serve as an additional source of data.

Interview Guide

The interview guide (see Appendix II) contained questions about matters such as the participant’s race and ethnicity, gender, age, and years of education in order to collect descriptive data for the demographics of the group (King 1994). Next, the interview focused on the participants’ experiences with culturally producing hip-hop, inquiring on the number of years they have been creating hip-hop, how participants’ became involved with hip-hop, if any events were inspirational in choosing to pursue hip-hop as a vocation, the number of albums or recording they have produced, their involvement with live performance or touring, and collaborating with other artists. Questions also addressed their financial investment and rewards gained through their musical career.

Additionally, during the course of the interview participants were asked questions relevant to assessing social, cultural, and subcultural capital as they relates to the production of

hip-hop music (see Appendix II). Examples of questions related to cultural capital included whether their friends or relatives play music, and if they have received any musical lessons or education. Questions also collected information about school or community music involvement, and participants’ involvement with the online hip-hop community, in order to examine how the artist accumulated their knowledge and skill in hip-hop cultural production. Furthermore, new queries were designed to explore topics that emerged during the interview to allow for investigation into unanticipated findings (Becker 1996).

Improving Reliability and Validity

In qualitative research it is vital to take steps that increase the rigor of the project, particularly the reliability and validity of the study (Cope 2004; Whittenmore, Chase, and

Mandle 2001). During the course of this project, detailed field notes were kept to record observations, interactions, and descriptions of the social settings explored. Field notes are a type of selective documentation of the social world, employed to chronicle the researcher’s decisions, curiosity, and theoretical commitments, and to serve as a source of data (Emerson, Fretz, and

Shaw 1995). There are a number of reasons that field notes are invaluable for qualitative research. First, the use of field notes facilitates the creation of persuasive, detailed accounts of the social world being studied (Fine 1999; Emerson 1987). Secondly, the maintenance of field notes helps create an audit-trail of the research project that enhances the validity of the study

(Strauss 2008; Charmaz 2006).

To supplement the field notes, a reflexive research journal was also kept (Saldaña 2013;

Adler and Adler 2008; Wolfinger 2002). The reflexive journal contained topical examinations of the life of the research process, including data collection and interviewing, notes about

improving interviewing strategy, the methods for categorizing data, collating data into potential themes, as well as the emotional reactions of the investigator. The use of reflexive journals and field notes to supplement field observations is known as data triangulation, a procedure that enhances the rigor and validity of a project (Strauss 2008; Crafting 1991).

Finally, to further improve data reliability, a process of member checking was employed

(Carlson 2010). After data was transcribed, prior to analyses, attempts were made to contact each participant to review the data. Of the thirty participants, six elected to participate in directly member-checking the data. The member-checking process consisted of providing the participants a chance to review their transcripts to ensure its accuracy. Secondly, based on the transcripts, I prepared a series of questions to ask each participant, designed to address the meanings they were conveying during the interview and clarify particular statements. Lastly, I performed a second interview with an additional seven persons for the purpose of clarifying their initial data as well as answering new questions that had developed during the research. This process proved to be instrumental for increasing understanding of unfamiliar phrases or expressions, for uncovering more subtle distinctions, for offering a forum for the participant to elaborate on anything that was stated.

DATA ANALYSIS

Data analysis is the process of organizing, inspecting, and evaluating information in order to generate new theories, support conclusions, or otherwise produce scientific findings. In qualitative methods, data analysis typically consists of generating concepts that can be understood as thematically related to the social world being studied (Bos and Tarnai 1999;

Bulmer 1979). This project used two analytical methods: (a) qualitative thematic analysis, and

(b) descriptive comparative analysis.

The first analytical method employed a thematic, qualitative-analytical method requiring the examination of investigator observations, participant narratives, collected field notes and other data, through the development and use of codes, categories, and themes based on the participants’ description and concluding with the analysis of how these themes are related

(Strauss 2008; Morrow 2000). The analytic process comprised a number of phases. First, all audio interview records were transcribed into textual form using voice recognition software

(Ligre, Ligre Software, France) and hand transcription. When completed, these transcriptions were loaded into Atlas.ti Mac (Scientific Software Development, GmbH: version 8). Atlas.ti Mac is a software program designed to perform qualitative analysis of unstructured data such as text, multimedia, and other information. Users of Atlas.ti are able to ascribe thematic codes to data for examining the content, network relations, and co-occurrence of themes across various document files.

After data had been loaded into Atlas.ti, it was coded and organized into conceptual themes and schemas in order to produce findings (Guest 2012; Fereday and Muir-Cochrane

2006). Coding an excerpt of qualitative data requires the investigator to carefully consider the meaning contained within the data and to assign a code in a single word or short phrase that captures that meaning (Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw 1995). The data coding and analyses process is non-recursive and adaptive—as new themes emerge prior data can be re-examined to see if they fit the emerging themes or theories. As this is a qualitative investigation, ample use is made of

‘in vivo’, direct quotes from the participants providing indicators of the particular themes

(Becker 1996).

Qualitative thematic analysis. The qualitative coding process consisted of a number of phases: (a) open coding, (b) axial coding, and (c) selective coding (Saldaña 2013; Strauss and

Corbin 1998).

First the data was open coded, a process in which the complete record of all the data is read without presupposition in order to allow for complete researcher immersion into the text

(Emerson, Fretz, and Shaw 1995). During open coding, the data is organized into a number of thematic categories that are both concrete and abstract. Furthermore, during open coding, new thematic categories were defined into subcategories, allowing the analysis to evolve in response to the subject material as it becomes more complex (Attride-Stirling 2001; Lofland and Lofland

1995).

Secondly, in the axial coding phase, using a combination of deductive and inductive reasoning, codes are compared to one another in order to determine if there are interrelationships, Relationships identified during axial coding are associative in nature (Strauss and

Corbin 1998). Examples of associative relationships identified during axial coding include causal relationships, action strategies, intervening conditions, and consequences for actions.

The final phase of coding is selective coding for the purpose of developing a core storyline that explains the social phenomenon under investigation. Through this process of selective coding, patterns emerged explaining the relationship between the species of capital and the cultural production of hip-hop (Saldaña 2013).

Analysis of the qualitative interview data yielded a number of sub-themes for the species of capital as well as an additional theme describing the pathways by which participants became hip-hop cultural producers. The first theme, getting in, contained two sub-themes: (a) preparation for musical cultural production careers, and (b) taking the step. The first sub-theme

describes preparation and experiences leading to the choice to pursue hip-hop cultural production, whereas the second sub-theme explores the largely subsequent decisions, deliberations, and strategies employed by the participants in pursuit of a career in hip-hop cultural production.

The second theme is social capital, comprising four sub-themes: (a) the family, (b) mentors, (c) institutions, and (d) connections within the music industry. The next theme, cultural capital, consisted of three sub-themes: (a) putting in work, in which participants described their motivations and drives as they relate to cultural production, (b) learning the craft, describing the acquisition of technical, performative, and artistic capacities related to hip-hop, and (c) creating the product, chronicling the translation of artistic creations into commercial commodities, such as recording songs or visual presentations. The theme of economic capital encompassed two sub- themes: (a) financing the hip-hop career, and (b) getting paid, describing the manner in which hip-hop artists and producers are materially compensated as cultural producers. The final theme, subcultural capital, comprised three sub-themes: (a) the voice of the streets, (b) managing the brand, and (c) an authentic style. The voice from the streets sub-theme describes the meanings participants ascribed to hip-hop cultural production. The sub-theme managing the brand relates to how hip-hop cultural producers create and manage their artistic image. The final sub-theme, an authentic style, expresses the nature of authenticity and meaning as hip-hop cultural producers.

Descriptive comparative analysis. The second analytical method examined the descriptive data derived from the participants’ interview data. Information collected included their age, race and ethnicity, age of onset for musical participation, the type and number of

instruments they had proficiency in, when they began involvement with hip-hop cultural production, and the highest level of education they had achieved. Additionally, information was also tabulated relating to their career in hip-hop cultural production, such as their role and whether or not they were able to earn all or the majority of their income through cultural production.

Once collected, this data was entered into an Excel for Mac (version 14.7.2: Microsoft

Corporation: Redmond, Washington) spreadsheet. Data was compiled to derive descriptive statistics, and description of the participant’s musical involvement. Next, the decision was made to classify the participants into two groups: (a) participants whose capital had transferred into a career in hip-hop cultural production (transfer group), and (b) participants whose capital had not transferred to a professional career (non-transfer group). Participants were classified as having transferred their capital into a hip-hop cultural production career if they reported that all or most of their income was derived related to their cultural production career. Those participants who earned their primary income through sources other than hip-hop cultural production were classified as part of the non-transfer, non-career group.

Once participants were divided into transfer and non-transfer groups, a series of paired t- tests were performed in Stata for Mac (version 15: Stata Corporation: College Station, Texas) to establish if there were significant differences in characteristics between these two groups of participants. These statistical tests compared the transfer and non-transfer groups in areas of: (a) participant age, (b) the age of onset for musical participation, (c) age of onset for hip-hop cultural production, and (d) average years of hip-hop cultural production involvement. Additional comparisons were made between the transfer and non-transfer group examining musical instrument proficiency, level of educational attainment, and whether or not they reported having

a criminal record or having been sentenced or incarcerated.

ETHICAL ISSUES

There are a number of ethical challenges taken into consideration whenever conducting qualitative research, due to the reliance on the cooperation of participants whose social world is under inquiry. As qualitative research involves collecting data about persons, the investigator must take special care to develop trust with their participants as well as show foresight to anticipate potential ethical issues (Punch 2005). Due to the potential ethical issues that may arise during research, this study is guided by the principles of respect for persons, beneficence, and justice—principles that must be carefully balanced against the aims of this research project and the natural rights of the informants under study (Orb, Eisenhauer, and Wyanden 2001). Respect of persons, especially marginalized populations, requires an investigator to protect the confidentiality of their informants as well as maintain reflexive awareness of their own social position and privilege (Creswell 2009). Consequently, this project is guided by the ethical principles and practices of reflexivity and confidentiality (Swartz 1997).

A number of general guidelines have been established that balance the requirements of the investigation and the rights of the informants as human subjects. First, this research excluded persons under the age of eighteen from participation—persons who have not reached the legal age of majority were not included in this study. Second, all potential informants were briefed on the purpose of this study, and their rights as research participants. Participants were notified that they are to receive no payment or remuneration for their participation, and told that their cooperation in this project is voluntary and may be terminated at any point without repercussion.

After being briefed, the informants voluntarily signed an informed consent form agreeing to the

terms of the research. After signing, participants were provided with a copy of the informed consent form for their own records.

Participant Confidentiality

The primary ethical concern involves the confidentiality of my informants. The protection of participant identities is a cornerstone of ethical qualitative research methods

(Saldaña 2013; Lofland and Lofland 1995). Furthermore, given the potential to observe or hear about illegal behaviors during the course of this investigation, additional care was taken to ensure confidentiality for the participants. In order to protect informant confidentiality, all identifying information, such as their name, was altered to a pseudonym of the informant’s choosing, or, barring that, of my selection. Information that could potentially reveal their identity, such as schools they have attended, their place of employment, or other data, were altered in a manner that preserves their confidentiality yet also maintains the integrity of their narratives. All digital data, including recorded audio files, field notes, memos, transcripts, and other records, are stored in a password-protected computer only available to myself. Physical data such as consent forms, field notes and memos shall be stored together in a locked cabinet accessible only by the researcher.

Researcher Reflexivity

This research project is guided by the principle of researcher reflexivity (Swartz 1997).

Reflexivity is a critical aspect of social research and entails that the investigator remains aware of the differences in social position and power between themselves and the research participants.

Furthermore, reflexive social scientists must remain aware of the impact they have on the object

being studied. Challenges to reflexivity can occur at any part of the research process, from design, implementation, analyses, and authorship (Anderson 2011; Becker 1996).

In this research the greatest reflexive concerns are race and social class. As a white, middle class and educated male I faced numerous potential obstacles when studying a population consisting primarily of economically disadvantaged African Americans. However, as a former recording engineer, I have a history of working with this particular population and have some understanding of the codes of conduct, mores, and conventions of these participants. Despite having occupational familiarity with hip-hop artists, I am aware of the many cultural, economic, and social differences between my informants and myself. Consequently, I must remain cognizant and aware of these differences in order to gather accurate data and analyses when studying this group (Tillman 2002).

Reporting Racial Terminology Used by the Participants

The use of racially charged terms, most notably the n-word and its variants, is encountered in the black community generally, and more specifically within the field of hip-hop cultural production (Asima 2008). Debates, both academic and public, have contested the usage of these racial epithets to determine the proper manner in which they may or may not be employed, or who may employ them, with little agreement (Harkness 2008; Kennedy 2003).

Within the general context of society, public decorum prohibits the use of the n-word, particularly by non-black speakers or writers (Asima 2008).

Describing its problematic history, Randall Kennedy (2003) noted that hip-hop has potentially sustained, or even increased, the use of the n-word in the general population. This is unfortunate, as the term itself conventionally symbolizes black racial oppression and white

supremacy in its most direct, aggressive, and dehumanizing fashion (Rahman 2012; Kennedy

2003). Although efforts were attempted by hip-hop artists to “take back” the n-word through connotative and denotative modification, adapting its usage to become a term of solidarity or endearment among African Americans, the employment of these epithets remains highly controversial (Asima 2008; Kennedy 2003).

Therefore, as a white male, I have elected to refrain from displaying the n-word throughout this document. However, this decision presents a problem given the topic of this research project, its qualitative methodology, and the participants, many of whom use these racial epithets are part of their everyday lexicon. It is not my intention to artificially censor my participants or rob them of their own language of expression so I will indicate participants’ use of the n-word.

Due to the linguistic shifts performed on the n-word, it technically comprises two linked, but separate, terms with different connotation. Therefore, when notating the n-word I shall distinguish between its two terminological variants: (a) the original negative version that was traditionally employed as an insult and racial epithet, and (b) the modified version designed to

‘take back’ the word, typically denoting friendship, commonality, or association with a fellow

African American individual. These variants shall be printed in the text as “n***er” and “n***a” respectively. In this fashion, hopefully a balance is struck between professionalism and accurately reporting the lived experiences, lexicon, and expressed meanings of the participants.

Voluntary Disclosure of Illegal Behavior

During the data collection process there were instances in which the participants described participating in criminal or illegal behaviors. These disclosures of illegal behavior by

the participants were entirely voluntary and not in response to specific interview questions (see

Appendix II: Interview Guide). In order to protect the confidentiality of the informants, disclosure of specific details of these behaviors, identifying features, or other information that could potentially harm participants or reveal their identity have been altered or omitted from the report.

CHAPTER IV

RESULTS AND FINDINGS

This study qualitatively examines cultural, social, economic, and subcultural capital in their relations to hip-hop cultural production. Data were gathered using a combination of field research and semi-structured interviews. Each species of capital was treated as a different theme for data analysis. Upon analysis, a fifth theme was identified: getting in. Within the theme getting in, two sub-themes were identified: (a) preparation for musical cultural production careers, and (b) taking the step. For social capital, the analysis identified four sub-themes: (a) family, (b) mentors, (c) institutions, and (d) connections in the music industry. Sub-themes that emerged for cultural capital included: (a) putting in work, (b) learning the craft, and (c) creating the product. The theme of economic capital contained two sub-themes: (a) financing the hip-hop career and (b) getting paid as artists or producers. Lastly, sub-themes identified for subcultural capital were identified as: (a) the voice of the streets, (b) managing the brand, and (c) an authentic style.

This chapter details the results and findings of this study. First, descriptive data of the informants is provided. Secondly, descriptive data regarding the participants’ musical involvement is highlighted. Third, data from participants who have transferred their capital to a hip-hop cultural production career (transfer group) is statistically compared to participants who have not transferred their capital to a career (non-transfer group). Lastly, the themes and sub- themes of getting in, cultural capital, social capital, economic capital, and subcultural capital are reported and described.

DESCRIPTION OF PARTICIPANTS

A total of thirty participants (n=30) engaging in hip-hop cultural production were ultimately recruited and interviewed. Interviews were conducted between August and December

2018. Thirty-eight interviews were completed, as some participants were contacted for a second interview to clarify meanings or ask additional questions. A total of fifty-seven hours of interview data were captured, with an average length of ninety-three minutes for each interview.

All of the participants were African American males, with two participants (6.6%) indicating they identify as African American, but also describing themselves as multi-racial. The age range of the population is 19 to 45 years of age, with an average age of 28.83 years; the median age of the participants was 28 years of age. All thirty participants are permanent residents of Ohio, United States of America, with ten participants residing in Cleveland (33.3%), six in Cincinnati (20.0%), six in Akron (20%), five in Columbus (16.6%), and three in Toledo,

Ohio (10%).

The education of the participants ranged from less than a high school degree to a four- year degree. One participant (3.3%) had a bachelor’s degree and one participant had an associate degree (3.3%). Two participants were currently attending college (6.6%). Eight participants had attended college (26.6%) but had not yet earned a degree. Twelve participants were high school graduates (40%) and two had earned General Education Degree (GED) requirements (6.6%).

Four participants reported that they had less than a high school degree (13.3%).

Eleven of the participants reported they had a criminal record (36.6%). Of these, six participants (20%) indicated they had spent more than a year in state prison for felony offenses.

The remaining five participants (16.6%) indicated that they had been incarcerated for shorter periods of time in local jails or other types of holding facilities. During interviews, without being

prompted, five participants (16.6%) volunteered information that they are currently engaged in criminal behaviors.

Occupationally, the most common career was hip-hop production with eight participants

(26.6%) indicating their primary or secondary income was from selling music (“beats”) or recording. Six participants were currently unemployed or otherwise looking for work (20%) and one participant (3.3%) was currently involved in a non-profit jobs training program. Four participants indicated they were involved in freelance promotion or booking of hip-hop artists or other entertainers (13.3%). There were two participants (6.6%) employed in journalism related to providing coverage of hip-hop. Two participants (6.6%) indicated they were employed in the shipping or transportation industry. Five participants (16.6%) were employed in the service sector, with two participants (6.6%) employed in retail, two participants (6.6%) employed in food service, and one participant (3.3%) in healthcare. Only one participant (3.3%) was employed in the manufacturing sector. Only one participant (3.3%) was employed in the trades industry, as an electrician. The remaining participants’ occupations include city park service

(3.3%), martial arts instructor (3.3%), acting (3.3%), janitorial (3.3%) and security (3.3%). Note that some participants reported more than one current occupation.

The following table summarizes the descriptive data of the participants:

Table 1. Participant Descriptive Data n (%) Gender Male 30 (100%)

Race African American 30 (100.0%)

Age 18-24 9 (30.0%) 25-34 16 (53.3%) 35+ 5 (16.6%)

Average Age: 28.83

Location Cleveland 10 (33.3%) Cincinnati 6 (20.0%) Akron 6 (20.0%) Columbus 5 (16.6%) Toledo 3 (10.0%)

Highest Level of Education Bachelor’s degree 1 (3.3%) Associates degree 1 (3.3%) Some college 10 (33.3%) High school/GED 14 (46.6%) Less than high school 4 (13.3%)

Criminal Record Reported criminal record 11 (36.6%) Incarcerated: state prison 6 (20.0%) Incarcerated: jail 5 (16.6%) Reported current criminal behavior 5 (16.6%)

Occupation Music production 8 (26.6%) Unemployed 6 (20.0%) Promotion 4 (13.3%) Journalism 2 (6.6%) Shipping 2 (6.6%) Retail 2 (6.6%) Food service 2 (6.6%) All others 8 (26.6%)

PARTICIPANT MUSIC INVOLVEMENT

Among the participants interviewed, the age for beginning hip-hop cultural production ranged from 11 to 23 years of age; the average age of onset for becoming involved in hip-hop cultural production was 16.9 years of age. The total years of involvement within hip-hop cultural production ranges from 2 to 31 years of activity, with an average of 11.93 years within hip-hop as a cultural producer.

Artistic production of hip-hop potentially involves types of specialization such as vocal performance, music creation (“making beats”), and turntablism. Historically, these three roles are master of ceremonies (MC), producers, and disk jockeys (DJ), respectively. The MC specializes in vocal performance. Producers are responsible for writing the music and creating beats. DJ’s employ album turntables (record players) in a variety of musical fashions. Hip-hop artists play one or more of these roles as part of their musical identity and career. Of the participants interviewed, twenty-eight perform the role of a MC (93.3%). Sixteen participants reported that they are music producers (53.3%). Only one participant indicates that they are a DJ (3.3%).

Fourteen participants reported being an MC exclusively (46.6%), while two participants (6.6%) indicated that they are only involved in music production. The most common pairing of roles is seen with participants who are both MC’s and producers, a dual role filled by fourteen participants (46.6%).

While all of the participants engage in hip-hop cultural production, the degree to which they have received formal musical training or express proficiency in playing music varied.

Fifteen participants (50.0%) have received musical training or are proficient in playing musical instruments. Nine participants (30.0%) play keyboard instruments such as piano, organ, or synthesizer. Five participants (16.6%) have received formal vocal instructions, singing lessons,

or were a member of a choir. Two participants (6.6%) are proficient at drums and percussion.

Two participants (6.6%) play the trumpet, and two play the guitar (6.6%). One participant (3.3%) plays the violin, and one participant (3.3%) reports skill at turntablism. Note that seven participants (23.3%) are multi-instrumentalists, having proficiency in more than one instrument.

The following table outlines the participants’ music involvement:

Table 2. Participant Music Involvement n (%) Age starting hip-hop involvement 11-13 6 (20.0%) 14-15 5 (16.6%) 16-17 8 (26.6%) 18-19 4 (13.3%) 20-21 4 (13.3%) 22-23 3 (10.0%)

Average age starting hip-hop involvement: 16.9

Years involved in hip-hop cultural production 1-5 7 (23.3%) 6-10 5 (16.6%) 11-15 10 (33.3%) 16-20 4 (13.3%) 21+ 4 (13.3%)

Average years involved in hip-hop cultural production: 11.93

Role MC 14 (46.6%) MC and producer 14 (46.6%) Producer 2 (6.6%) DJ 1 (3.3%)

Musical proficiency Formal training 15 (50.0%) Keyboard 9 (30.0%) Vocal 5 (16.6%) Drums and percussion 2 (6.6%) Trumpet 2 (6.6%) Guitar 2 (6.6%) Violin 1 (3.3%) Turntablism 1 (3.3%)

HIP-HOP CAREER TRANSFER AND NON-TRANSFER PARTICIPANTS

A career in hip-hop cultural production is indicated when a participant earns all or most of their income within this occupational field. Participants identified as having established a career have effectively transferred their capital into a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Participants who have converted their capital into a hip-hop cultural production career are designated as transfer group participants. Conversely, participants reporting their income is primarily derived from sources of income other than hip-hop cultural production are designated as the non-transfer group.

Ten participants were classified as members of the transfer group. Among these participants eight identified that they earn all or a majority of their income through hip-hop cultural production. Additionally, two participants reported former hip-hop cultural production careers, but they have transitioned to promotion and booking of hip-hop artists as their primary source of income. Both of these participants indicated that they continue to earn part of their income through hip-hop cultural production. Due to their prior success as hip-hop cultural producers, their continued involvement in hip-hop cultural production, and current work within the field of hip-hop cultural production as promoters or booking agents, these two participants were included among the career participants. Twenty participants indicated that their primary occupation and source of income were in fields other than hip-hop cultural production or that they were currently unemployed. Therefore, these participants were classified as non-transfer group participants.

In general the transfer group participants were more educated than the non-transfer group participants. All ten of the transfer group participants completed high school or better, half of the informants having some college, and one individual having earned a Bachelors degree. In

comparison, twenty-percent of the non-transfer group participants had less than a high school degree, only a quarter had attended college, and only one individual held an associates degree.

The rate of musical proficiency, defined as competence on one or more musical instruments, is also greater amongst transfer group participants, with sixty-percent of the career group reporting musical proficiency, compared to forty-five percent of the non-transfer group participants. Upon analysis there are significant differences between the transfer and non-transfer groups in age of onset for music participation, and in age of onset for hip-hop cultural production involvement, and in years of experience in hip-hop. There were significant differences in the age of onset for musical involvement between the transfer group participants (M = 11.70, SD = 4.11) in comparison to the non-transfer group (M = 16.1, SD = 5.39), t(9)=3.4501, p = 0.0073. The age of onset for hip-hop involvement also exhibited significant difference between the transfer group

(M = 13.6, SD = 1.78) compared to the non-transfer group (M = 18.4, SD = 2.94), t(9)=8.7831, p

= 0.0001. There were significant differences in years of involvement in hip-hop cultural production between the transfer group (M = 17.1, SD = 7.56) and the non-transfer group (M =

9.6, SD = 5.66), t(9)=2.9917, p=0.0152.

Despite the significant differences in age of onset for musical participation, age of onset for hip-hop cultural production, and years of involvement in hip-hop, there is insignificant difference in the age between transfer group participants (M = 30.7, SD = 7.83) and non-transfer group participants (M = 27.9, SD = 4.44), t(9)=0.9013, p=0.3909.

Table 3 provides details comparing the career transfer versus non-transfer groups:

Table 3. Transfer Group Participants Compared to Non-Transfer Group Participants Non- Transfer Transfer (n=10) (n=20) Education Bachelor’s degree 1 (10.0%) 0 (0.0%) Associates degree 0 (0.0%) 1 (5.0%) Some college 5 (50.0%) 5 (25.0%) High school/GED 4 (40.0%) 10 (50.0%) Less than high school 0 (0.0%) 4 (20.0%)

Average age*: 30.7 27.9

Age starting hip-hop involvement 11-13 4 (40.0%) 1 (5.0%) 14-15 5 (50.0%) 1 (5.0%) 16-17 1 (10.0%) 7 (35.0%) 18-19 0 (0.0%) 4 (20.0%) 20-21 0 (0.0%) 4 (20.0%) 22-23 0 (0.0%) 3 (15.0%)

Average age starting hip-hop involvement**: 13.3 18.4

Years involved in hip-hop cultural production 1-5 0 (0.0%) 7 (35.0%) 6-10 2 (20.0%) 3 (15.0%) 11-15 4 (40.0%) 6 (30.0%) 16-20 0 (0.0%) 4 (20.0%) 21+ 4 (40.0%) 0 (0.0%)

Average years involved in hip-hop cultural production**: 17.1 9.6

Average age of musical involvement**: 11.7 16.1

Musical proficiency Yes 6 (60.0%) 9 (45.0%) No 4 (40.0%) 11 (55.0%) *note: not significant based on paired t-test **note: p<.01

REPORT OF THE QUALITATIVE THEMES

The following section presents qualitative themes describing the relationships between the four species of capital and hip-hop cultural production. An addition theme to be described below emerged in the process of analysis and was included alongside the original four themes.

Presentation of this data is therefore divided into five themes, each with their own sub-themes.

The principal themes are: (a) getting in, (b) social capital, (c) cultural capital, (d) economic capital, and (e) subcultural capital. The theme of getting in describes the preparation and decision to pursue a career in hip-hop cultural production. Social capital examines the roles that networks, familial bonds, institutional participation, and mentorship have for hip-hop cultural producers. Cultural capital refers to the acquisition of dispositions, knowledge, and capacities to engage in hip-hop cultural production. Economic capital refers to the acquisition and expenditure of material wealth within the cultural production of hip-hop. Lastly, subcultural capital relates to the subcultural resources within hip-hop.

Table 4 provides a detailed summary of the qualitative themes and sub-themes, including their definition, example quotes, and the number of reporting participants:

Table 4. Definitions and Examples of Themes (n=30) Theme and Sub-themes Definition Example quote n(/%) Getting In Preparation Early acquisition “In my house, my parents expected all us 15 for Musical of cultural children to be active—sports and outdoor- (50%) Cultural production like activities in the spring and summer and Production competencies. something you could do all year. I picked Careers music… and my parents bought me a Casio keyboard. I had lessons every week for years, man.” ~Tayvon

Taking the The decision to "To me hip-hop is an opportunity. I mean, I 30 Step enter into a hip- love it [hip-hop] and all—originally it was (100%) hop cultural what really got me into music. I mean, production music is a business, I want to work in the career. business side of things, you know, artistically." ~Curtis Social Capital Family Acquisition of "My father has been a rhythm guitar player 6 capital through his whole life. He’s explained chords and (20%) the immediate keys and as much musical stuff as he can to family for hip- me.” ~James hop cultural production.

Mentors Influence of "Well, my cousin David used to run with 7 persons outside Kid Cudi. This was about the time Cudi was (23%) the immediate starting to work with Kanye [West], you family for hip- know, he was up on the rise, jumping back hop cultural from New York City and Cleveland. Well, production. my cousin, he heard our little jam tapes and passed it on to Cudi, who let us open up for him a few times." ~Max

Institutions Membership in "I’d DJ some of the [church] parties and 9 institutions or things where it wasn’t convenient or really (30%) organizations too appropriate to use the church band and providing capital choir. I did quite a few events." ~Robert for hip-hop cultural production.

(continued)

Table 4. Definitions and Examples of Themes (n=30) Theme and Sub-themes Definition Example quote n(%) Connections Associations "Meeting people, that was important too. 9 in the Music within the My cousin introduced us to people that were (30%) Industry professional older, been in the game for longer, so before music industry. you knew it we had adults and more industry-type people giving us tips, opening doors for us, letting us know what we did right, what we could improve, who we needed to meet, what shows to play, what venues to avoid." ~Max Cultural Capital Putting in Drive, effort, and "I feel like [I] wasn’t making progress [in 14 Work motivation hip-hop] until I started putting in some (46%) toward hip-hop work. " ~Nate cultural production.

Learning the Acquiring the "I figured I could save money and just get 18 Craft skills of hip-hop my own setup, do it all myself. Once I saw (60%) cultural what you could do [in the studio], that was production and all I needed. I figured I'd just, you know, performance. figure the rest out on my own. I had more time than money to get it right." ~Miles

Creating the The process and “All you need to make hip-hop, you know, 30 Product techniques of is a beat. You know, you need a mic (100%) creating hip-hop [microphone] to spit in and computer to put cultural it together." ~Andre products.

(continued)

Table 4. Definitions and Examples of Themes (n=30) Theme and Sub-themes Definitions Example quote n(%) Economic Capital Financing Using economic "See, studio time costs money, buying beats 18 the Hip-Hop resources to costs money. If you really want to try to (60%) Career afford hip-hop promote yourself, that's money, too. If you cultural want someone famous to come spit a verse production. [record on my song] that's like, two- thousand dollars.” ~William

Getting Paid Earning material "I rap and produce to pay my bills, been 24 wealth through working for myself this whole last year." (80%) hip-hop cultural ~Darrel production. Subcultural Capital The Voice of Hip-hop as an "Hip-hop is just the latest way to express 13 the Streets expression of what the black community has been saying (43%) African forever. It's a street consciousness. It tells American urban stories about what is really going on.” life. ~Miles

Managing Management of "My whole goal is to move [sell] some 7 the Brand one's artistic stuff, push my brand, push my career and (23%) identity as a hip- then I get paid.” ~William hop cultural producer.

An The role of “Hip-hop can mean about anything you 11 Authentic honesty and want it to. You have to make it for you, (36%) Style integrity in hip- make it your own.” ~Daniel hop cultural production.

GETTING IN

Entering hip-hop cultural production requires a combination of preparation, interest, and strategy on behalf of the practitioners. Getting in refers to the prior experiences and decision- making process that prepared and prompted an individual to seek a career in hip-hop cultural production. The trajectories for getting into hip-hop cultural production are varied. Some start with early musical involvement in different styles of music other than hip-hop, and some start later with an interest in hip-hop as a pathway to a career in cultural production. The theme of getting in to hip-hop cultural production consists of two sub-themes: (a) preparation for musical cultural production, and (b) taking the step to participate in hip-hop cultural production. The sub-theme preparation for musical cultural production refers to the acquired skills and dispositions in cultural production prior to deciding to pursue a career in hip-hop cultural production. The sub-theme of taking the step refers to the process for deciding to seek a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Preparation for Musical Cultural Production Careers

Preparation for musical cultural production refers to experiences and competencies gained within cultural production acquired prior to the decision to become a hip-hop cultural producer. The production of hip-hop music requires a wide array of abilities including musical performance, composition, songwriting, and other skills of cultural production. These skills encompass application of abstract knowledge, such as music theory, and practical experience, such as proficiency in playing an instrument, performing, or songwriting. Developing musical competence to successfully participate in cultural production often requires years of training and

discipline. Consequently, acquiring these skills earlier in life provides substantial benefits for initiating and maintaining a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Prior exposure to music cultural production was common among the participants, with fifteen participants, half of those interviewed, receiving formal or informal musical training prior to initiating a career in hip-hop cultural production. Six participants indicated that they were introduced to music by parental involvement. Tayvon explains: “In my house, my parents expected all us children to be active—sports and outdoor-like activities in the spring and summer and something you could do all year. I picked music… and my parents bought me a Casio keyboard. I had lessons every week for years, man.” Likewise, Robert reports his parents required him to be musically active, stating that in the third grade: “…my parents made me join youth choir” at his elementary school and church despite his lack of interest in either. Sonny’s parents enrolled him in vocal lessons when he was seven so he could be a member of their church’s gospel choir, he stated: “My mom really pushed me to be in the choir. I didn’t really care for it at the time, but it helped get me into music later on. Besides, you couldn’t really tell my parents ‘no’ about any church-things.”

Rhyland, too, was involved in choir from an early age, stating that his favorite part was

“…being applauded,” although he noted that since it was a children’s group “people would always cheer for the kids in the young choir.” Darrell, having grown up in a wealthy, predominately white, middle class community, was encouraged by his parents to pursue classical piano at age six, but switched to violin for a few years, explains:

I started out with the piano and kind of went over to violin for a little bit. I think the

piano, you know, [the] piano is such a big instrument when you're only like six and I

think I had to kind of grow into it. The violin is a smaller instrument.

While many participants were encouraged, or required, by their parents to acquire musical competency, seven participants indicated that they elected to pursue music through their own interest. Curtis, raised by a single mother from an affluent family, became interested in music from listening to the radio when he was eight years old. He describes his mother as being:

“…totally supportive. She drove me to all my music lessons, bought me my first drum set, found a used piano for me. [She did] everything.” Alex describes growing up in a musical household where “something was constantly on the stereo… Michael Jackson, Billy Paul, Marvin Gaye” and he recalls this developed his interest in singing. Curtis joined his elementary school’s choral program, stating he “…did choir for a bit, but in high school the slots were all taken up or something” and that he “…lost interest in that [choir]… But music was around me all the time.”

Later, despite being pressured to take vocal lessons as a youth, Sonny developed his own interest in keyboard and guitar, noting that he was able to learn “…mostly by ear or on my own. Picking out tunes, that kind of thing.” Braxton, who started as a self-taught keyboard player, had his ability noticed by his parents when they found him playing with the piano they had at home:

I was playing the piano, just making up stuff. And the first the first thing I remember

them doing was taking me to a piano instructor and [then] I was learning how to do R&B

and blues. That's when I got my own keyboard. Then I started creating my own music

and tracks and things like that.

Robert, skilled at turntablism, describes how his first interest in music came from watching a disk jockey at a relative’s wedding when he was five years old:

My Uncle Marty was getting married and they had a DJ. I just thought that was the

coolest thing! I must have spent the entire evening watching the DJ change records. I

loved how the DJ could get people to do things just based on what they were playing…

you could get people excited by playing something upbeat, or slow dancing with another

type of song… it was just so cool. The DJ let me see what he was doing. He even let me

touch some of the records. After that I was bugging my parents for a turntable so I could

be a DJ. I’ve been messing with turntables ever since.

Musical parents can have a direct impact on their children’s interest and abilities to learn music. James became interested in guitar, an instrument that his father played. James stated: “my father has been a musician and rhythm guitar player his whole life. He’s explained chords and keys and as much musical stuff as he can to me.” Miles’ mother, who played organ at her church, was a primary motivator for him learning to play keyboard, providing him with regular lessons

“a few times a week.” During these lessons, Miles would learn “scales and chords. She taught me some theory, showed me how to listen to learn things by ear. Pick out songs.” In addition to his membership in choir, Rhyland learned to play the trumpet from his father, who had formerly played in jazz ensembles before settling down in a manufacturing job to raise a family. Rhyland observed: “I think my Dad, he like wanted to be Winton Marsalis when he was young! [laughs] I think he had that crazy wish for me too because as soon as I was old enough to hold a trumpet he put one in my face.” Rhyland adds that his father would make him practice “…daily” until he

“…kinda couldn’t stand it [playing trumpet]. [And] that was that for my music career until I found the drums. Then he [his father] wanted me to be Elvin Jones or Art Blakey or something.”

However, parents are not always supportive of their children’s musical ambitions.

Victor’s experience made him feel like “kind of giving up” on music altogether:

Back in third grade we had, like, a concert at school. Some kids came from the high

school and played a Christmas concert. Choir, violins, all that. I just kind of fell in love

with that, the sound was just something I had never heard before. It seemed to, like, you

know, totally surround you. I went home and asked my Mother if I could play something

like that. She said it probably cost too much, and I wouldn’t keep up with it, that it would

just gather dust. I tried to ask the school for some information and when they called my

Mom, well she got mad at me. She grounded me for a few days for that.

Taking the Step

Taking the step describes the process in which a participant decided to pursue hip-hop cultural production as a career. The transition from being a consumer of hip-hop to a career in hip-hop cultural production is an important turning point for the participants. The decision to embark on a career in hip-hop cultural production is a varied one for the participants.

A common theme echoed by all thirty of the participants was appreciation for music and a love for hip-hop specifically. Having appreciation for music provides basis for a subsequent career in hip-hop cultural production. Max, a MC from Akron, aptly summarizes this: “Music is just a feeling. It’s something that just, I don’t know, grabs you. When you get the fever for it, it just takes you over.” As Cleveland producer and beat writer Orlando explains: “What really made me decide to do [hip-hop] music, and when I decided to do it for myself was the fact that I love music so much.” Kennan, recently released from prison and attempting to reinvigorate his hip-hop career, exclaims “I fucking live for music! … Music is my life. Without music I don’t think that I would have a reason to, you know, keep on keeping on.” Lawrence relates a similar

opinion, stating that he is involved with hip-hop because: “I just love music!” but he also appreciates many types of music, including rock: “Anyone that comes at me with different music, I'll listen to it. I try to be diverse.” Lawrence, however, later decided to pursue hip-hop because it was the style of music he was most familiar with, as it was “…just what was in my community.” Calvin, a MC from Cleveland, summarizes his position that he “loves music, but especially rap” because “it’s the modern R&B” and “the only important genre of black music that’s really left.” Curtis, a multi-instrumentalist and producer, describes his love for many styles of music, including hip-hop:

I play everything—rock, jazz, even some metal. Metal drums are pretty intricate. Hip-hop

is one of many types of music I like. I think, well, growing up mostly around whites—all

my close friends growing up were white and still are. But I listen to a lot of stuff

considered pretty ‘white’ as well as hip-hop. This ends up showing up in a lot of my

music.

While having an appreciation for music appears to be a necessary prerequisite for becoming a hip-hop cultural producer, it alone does not explain how the participants became involved in their artistic careers. Pursuing a career in hip-hop cultural production requires commitment and active involvement far beyond the passive role of a cultural consumer. Many participants describe the production of hip-hop, as Max describes, to be a “grind.” Learning cultural production takes time and commitment, as affirmed by the rapper and producer Trey: “I just wish I would have started earlier because it takes more than a couple of years to get your shit straight.” Similarly, Andre observes that to succeed in hip-hop you have to: “Just grind that shit,

hustle, and do it.” William, a MC from Columbus, explains the level of commitment required by an artist: “hip-hop is a calling” that “…is not a game for the weak.”

However, many hip-hop cultural producers describe how their love of music allowed them to persevere in their career. Orlando stated that he felt almost called to hip-hop because: “I felt I had something to say and I wanted to be heard on a larger scale. So I wanted to be an artist and… God gave me ability as a producer so I took it and ran with it.” Andre, who performs under the moniker Capital Dre, explains that: “For me, hip-hop is life.” Tayvon, who had formerly been signed to a major label as a recording artist, sums up the effort required to succeed in the professional music business:

It’s like you work your whole life, every minute of every day, trying to build up to

something that you get one chance to get right. We worked so hard [in this group] to get

music out that it was like a marriage. We put our, you know, our fucking lives on hold. I

was putting shit together from the time I was a kid, you feel? All for a deal only lasted

about two years. It was so much fucking work, you know?

Later, Tayvon explains that his first marriage dissolved because of his commitment to his music career, saying that his ex-wife called herself a “digital widow,” referring to the digital audio workstations at the studio used to write and record hip-hop music. When asked why he preferred working at the studio to spending time with his wife, Tayvon said: “I was angry and under pressure to perform better” and that, unlike his partner, “the studio didn’t talk back.”

Tayvon claims this all-consuming commitment to hip-hop: “…separates the punks from those that really want to succeed.”

The process of transitioning from a consumer of hip-hop to a cultural producer is often a gradual process, as William explains: “…it's like one day you're listening to it [hip-hop] all your life and then, just like one day, you start to get that idea that maybe you'd like to say something, to, you know, to drop your own verse.” When asked what pushed him to decide to create hip-hop

William observed that he had a “…kind of feeling in the back of my head for a while and then, you know, I just decided it was just time.” For Miles, his transition “…started out small, just kind of rapping along with the radio, in the car, whatever.” Nate, like many other participants, describes a similar nagging feeling that propelled him from listener to cultural producer: “Man, it

[making hip-hop] was something I always wanted to do. It just kept eating at me until one day I thought I’d give it a try.” Hank, who is in a hip-hop duo with his brother Calvin, describes how their mutual love of hip-hop, fostered by their closeness growing up, turned more serious as they grew into adolescence:

Cal [Calvin] and I sort of, what’s the best way to put it, kind of egged each other on to do

it [create hip-hop]. Almost like dared each other. For real, we listened to it [hip-hop] all

the time—it was our favorite music. I think that being around each other all the time, that

and being bored. Making little songs gave us something to do, it gave us a laugh. We’d

try to come up with the funniest verses and shit, you know. But that was the start of it.

We just never, you know, gave it up. We just got older and more serious about our stuff,

figuring we could maybe do something, you know, something pro one day by working up

to it.

For artists with prior commitments to other musical forms the transition to hip-hop cultural producer appears to follow a pattern in which the previous style is deemphasized or

abandoned altogether. Jordan, an artist from Toledo who was once formally trained in classical piano, indicated that he had considered getting into hip-hop for a number of years prior to his actual involvement:

I had already been playing [piano] for a few years, but I mostly listened to rap. My

biggest hurdle was just not knowing how hip-hop was made, like the beats and stuff.

Eventually I just had to know how they did that stuff. I just knew I had to do it too. After

awhile I got so serious with it [hip-hop] and all that I just quit taking [piano] lessons and

focused on making beats instead.

Like Jordan, Miles had proficiency in music prior to transitioning to hip-hop: “Mostly I was in the choir. I played organ a few times, when I was younger. When I got into hip-hop I sort of stopped doing things at church as much music-wise.” Tayvon, too, indicates that once he became involved in hip-hop, his musical interest in other genres waned, stating: “Once I, like, got into writing rap music my interest in playing the keyboard standards went way, way fucking down, you know?” The classically trained pianist Darrel relates a similar story:

When I was about fourteen or fifteen, hip-hop seemed to speak to me in ways that you

know, maybe Brahms or Chopin couldn’t. Mostly because this music is more about the

story of my life, not like something that was, like, two hundred years old. I mean, I

appreciate what they [classical composers] did back then. I use some of that stuff in my

music now.

However, not all participants with prior musical experience completely abandoned their formative roots. Curtis, whose primary instrument is percussion, claims that: “I play

everything—rock, jazz, even some metal. Drums are very physical so you can get your aggression out.” Regarding the type of music he prefers to compose, Curtis draws upon his diverse music background, noting that he likes “…tracks that are more of a mish-mash of styles… not exactly rap-rock, but not exactly just straight hip-hop either.” Sonny, who plays guitar and keyboard, as well as singing experience, maintains a broad interest in other styles of music because his interest in “hip-hop came later when I was seventeen or eighteen” after he had

“…already played in a few bands.” However, Robert, who is a DJ, found that his instrument of choice directly facilitated his involvement in hip-hop. He explains:

Well, I came into [hip-hop] music by the way of being a DJ. I dunno, I just liked spinning

records, being the center of attention at a party, being the one that hyped the party up. I

used to make little mix tapes on cassette when I was really young. Later on, of course, I’d

burn mix CD’s and stuff. All of this made it natural to do things like hip-hop.

While half of the participants had prior musical experience before deciding to pursue hip- hop cultural production, fifteen participants adopted hip-hop as their first and primary musical endeavor. Twenty-one of these participants (seventy percent) describe their entry into hip-hop as being the product of social interaction. James, who began his hip-hop career rapping with his adolescent friends, describes how his interest in hip-hop grew from participating in rap battles when he: “…started winning them. Getting a lot of reactions. I started realizing I was on to something. I started getting a lot of ‘wow factors’, ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs.’” This led him to pursue writing songs because: “I felt I had something to say and I wanted to be heard on a larger scale.”

Christian, a MC from Columbus, agrees, stating: “…rap was just something me and my friends did, all the time. Pretending we were Biggie [The Notorious B.I.G.] or ‘Pac [Tupac Shakur].”

Brothers Hank and Calvin grew up making their own hip-hop songs because “…it gave us a laugh.” Similarly, Orlando explains how becoming friends with other adolescents who had a recreational association to hip-hop led to his initial interest and ultimate participation as a cultural producer:

I was the isolated kid on the bus with his headphones on every day. Came to school with

my headphones on every day and didn’t talk to anyone, basically. I liked my music and

didn’t want to be bothered. Then after a while you started hanging with some guys that

are around and you hang with and they rap. That’s when it started for me.

Miles relates his story of how he first became involved with hip-hop by rapping with his friends as a competitive pastime: “Well, I started rapping early. Just with, like my friends and all that. Battle rap, just, you know, making fun of each other, making little rhymes, all that. You know, just spittin’ some rhymes, all that.” This competition amongst friends also pushed Alex into his hip-hop career: “Well, you know, DeMarco and I were always real competitive and when he went to the studio I knew I had to [also]. So I got some music online, found a beat, paid my twenty bucks or whatever and went up to the studio. You know, looking back, it didn’t go too well but I liked it [creating hip-hop].” In a related story, Brandon describes that he decided to start creating hip-hop based on a rivalry with a schoolmate:

There was this other kid—I hated that kid—that recorded some of his stuff [hip-hop]. I

thought it wasn't very good, I thought I could do better than that. You know me, I'm

competitive. [pauses] Anyways, he got a lot of attention. People were talking about it.

That's what made me think about doing my own thing. That's when I started thinking

about booking some studio time.

Transitioning into creating hip-hop may also be collaborative. Alex relates his path into hip-hop cultural production originated among his friends:

I got started based on, you know, rapping along with some kids in my neighborhood, just

like, with albums and sometimes they'll be some instrumental freestyle and you’d make

up your own kind of, you know, making your own words up. We’d be making fun with

each other. One of my friends he went up to the studio about ten years ago, and he did a

couple of songs and that really kind of impressed me. I was just thinking about having to

work other jobs and things like that. But like if this [hip-hop] were to blow up, you know,

I would do that.

Three participants relate how their older siblings facilitated their transition into hip-hop cultural production. Lester describes how his older brother, Purcell, influenced and mentored his entry into hip-hop at a young age: “Purcell got a lot of attention doing that [hip-hop]. I guess I just wanted the ladies to pay attention to me too. Back then he was real serious about it so he’d give me tips, help me come up with the lyrics or tell me how to say something.” A few years later, Lester explains, his older brother was incarcerated: “Anyways, when Purcell got locked up, he had all that stuff I told you about—pretty much his own production studio. All that stuff was laying around so I just started using it.” Suddenly having access to his brother’s studio inspired

Lester to “start taking it [hip-hop] seriously… to try to do something with it.” Miles relates a similar story about his older brother Quincy who had introduced him to hip-hop production. He too was incarcerated, allowing Miles access to his brother’s music equipment:

He's the one that turned me on to the rap game. Q [his brother] was always playing that

[hip-hop] and I dug it too. I really got into it when he went away for a stretch. Got locked

up. His room became my room, [and] his stuff [hip-hop recording equipment] just

became, like mine for a bit.

De’Ante relates a similar story, in which he was introduced to hip-hop by his older brother with whom he: “started writing and making music” until: “he [his older brother] end[ed] up getting locked up. And that changed everything ‘cause the house they raided [was] where the studio was [located]. So, they confiscated everything. There's nothing for us to record on— nothing.” However, unlike Lester and Miles, De’Ante had his career stalled until he was able to locate new people to work with, because his brother “…was the most involved as far as the music go.”

Older relatives outside of the immediate family can play a pivotal role for influencing a hip-hop career. Arthur explains: “I started out rapping when I was just a teenager. You know, just messing around. I knew my uncle had done some rap in the early 90’s, which was just a few years before I started fooling around. He used to play some of the songs he would make and all that.” Furthermore, Arthur’s uncle owned a recording studio that was: “…one of the first rap studios in the city at that time, you know, that only handled rap.” Fascinated by this, Arthur explains: “I was always hanging around that place, trying to soak up what he was doing, trying not to get in the way. Man, I would have practically lived there!” This association blossomed into a relationship in which Arthur was shown technical and musical aspects of hip-hop by his uncle. He explains:

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At first I wasn’t allowed to touch nothing! Later on he started showing me some stuff,

how to adjust the mixer or hit record on the machine. Bit by bit, when I was over there, I

would be like his, like his assistant. Uncle Keantey was cool like that. When I got a little

older, like fifteen [or] sixteen or so, I started asking him about sampling, making beats,

that kind of thing. So he showed me the basics and then I was constantly thinking of

things to sample, beats to make, all that. When Keantey wasn’t using the studio he’d let

me come over and work on making music.

Rich, who aspired to write hip-hop beats, describes how his older cousin, who was already an established producer, facilitated his entry into hip-hop by providing guidance. Rich explains that he asked his cousin for advice:

When I was about thirteen I just asked him if he would show me studio stuff because I

was interested in doing that. He took me to the studio and sat down with me for a few

hours a couple of times. Mostly he gave me advice what I should be, you know, focusing

on, things to watch out for, all those kinds of things. Whenever I had a question I just hit

him up [got in touch with him].

Furthermore, Rich describes his cousin’s insistence that he become musically competent, stating:

“Well, first off he said—and he stressed this big time—that if I wanted to be writing music I had to know music, feel me? He said pick an instrument and learn that. He recommended keyboard and piano because it was such a big part of writing hip-hop.” The advice that Rich received proved useful, as he explains: “I figured he was pretty successful so he has to know what… he

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was talking about. If he said it, I did it. Simple as that. Looking back, that was some good-ass advice because everything he told me on day one was true.”

Collaboration with socially significant others often crystallizes a nascent hip-hop interest into action, as illustrated by William, who had initially struggled entering hip-hop cultural production: “I started to get the ideas a bit to do it but then it was harder than I thought. But I started really getting into it after Dad died, I think it was around that time that I just wanted to get the anger out and that seemed a good way. That’s when I decided to really pursue hip-hop and met Herc [a hip-hop producer].” William, who had considered performing hip-hop for years, but lacked the resources to initiate his career, had his entry to hip-hop facilitated by meeting and becoming a collaborator with Herc, an established local hip-hop producer with more experience.

While social interaction was often a key feature for the participants to enter into a career of hip-hop cultural production, four of the participants purposely chose hip-hop for its entrepreneurial and financial rewards. Andre, a 24-year old MC in Cleveland with a criminal record, views hip-hop as the only alternative for him to achieve financial success. He chose to specialize in gangster rap because: “You might as well make money on who you were born to be.” Sonny, who started writing music in his small home studio as a teenager, explains his transition towards viewing hip-hop as a source of income:

I was doing a little recording, home recording stuff, and a guy from school, Devonne,

was bugging and bugging me about helping him record a rap song. So he came up, he

already had the beat with him, and I let him use my mic that I had. It came out okay and I

saw it [producing hip-hop] as a way to make some money.

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The desire to develop skill in hip-hop production for its financial gains also influenced

Rich, a producer in Toledo. Currently, Rich earns a living selling beats. He explains that his entry into professional hip-hop production began after his more established cousin, who was already a hip-hop cultural producer, gave him advice:

My cousin was a producer here in town already and he showed me what was up. When I

was about thirteen I just asked him if he would show me studio stuff because I was

interested in doing that. [Then] I kinda’ hijacked the computer we had at home, just took

it up in my room. At first I used cracked software [illegally pirated computer programs],

you know, it’s basically free because someone had put out the code to make it work. So it

didn’t cost me anything to start up. I worked like that for maybe a year or two until I

started selling beats. When I made money from selling a beat I invested right back into

my setup. I saw what I was doing as a business.

Like Sonny and Rich, Curtis chose hip-hop as a springboard to a larger music career, describing hip-hop as being:

…an in-roads, you know, to a possible music career. To me hip-hop is an opportunity. I

mean, I love it [hip-hop] and all—originally it was what really got me into music. I mean,

music is a business, I want to work in the business side of things, you know, artistically.

The desire to pursue a career in hip-hop can also result from dissatisfaction with other career options or with attending college, as Rhyland explains:

After like a certain point in teenage years once I realized I wasn't going to finish college

or any of that shit. I was a long way away from my mom thinking I was going to be

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famous. [I] didn't really have any direction. For a while I wanted to be a journalist and

got a job in that field, which made me feel like I didn’t really need to go to school

anymore, so I dropped out to work in journalism. Then I realized journalism was kind of

boring. I like writing but all of this, like, bullshit I had to write about… You know, I don't

really care about politics or whatever it was that I had to write about. I wanted to do

something I liked, so I chose hip-hop instead.

As the participants indicate, the transition from cultural consumption to production is often gradual for musician and non-musician alike. However, for some participants, becoming involved in hip-hop cultural production was consciously chosen because it potentially provides, as Max says, “…a shot at doing something big.” For some the prospect of career success pushed them from being hip-hop listeners to pursuing hip-hop professionally. Andre, who has spent time in juvenile detention and has a felony conviction, claims that hip-hop is his best chance at achieving legitimate financial success, stating: “I’m an ex-con—who gonna’ hire me? The rap game is the only chance for a thug like me.” Daniel expresses a similar sentiment regarding his economic future. Attending college became impossible because he: “…couldn’t get any funds

[student loans] to go with my [criminal] record. That’s a no-go for me. If I have a future it’s with this rap thing, this rap hustle.”

SOCIAL CAPITAL

Social capital, resources possessed by an individual through relationships as a member of a network, are integral to initiating and maintaining a hip-hop career. These “social obligations”

(Bourdieu 1986:51) are capable of being converted into “…actual or potential resources” (51).

Examples of social capital include the family, social clubs, professional organizations, or

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membership or participation within institutional life. Four sub-themes are identified as components of social capital for hip-hop cultural producers: (a) family, (b) mentors, (c) institutions, and (d) connections in the music industry. Social capital originating in the family is relevant for providing exposure to music, instruction in musical performance or direct introduction to cultural production. Mentors are social connections that provide advice, instruction, or otherwise convey knowledge or appraisal of musical performance related to hip- hop. Institutions, such as schools or church, are also capable of providing social networks conducive to the hip-hop career. Lastly, connections in the music industry identified another important type of social capital for hip-hop cultural producers, for example other hip-hop artists or cultural intermediaries such as music journalists, booking agents, or corporate music executives.

Family

The sub-theme of family refers to social capital provided by parents and siblings. As indicated earlier, the family is often a source of early musical support such as providing personal, informal instruction in music or financing formal lessons in music. Six participants indicated that their family had direct influence on their participation in music.

Miles explains that in his family: “We always had music in the house. My Mom gave Q

[his brother] and me lessons [on keyboard]. Our grandma played too—[she] taught my mom.”

When describing his mother’s appreciation for music, Miles states: “My Mom lives for the organ.” This intergenerational transfer of musical ability through social networks was the primary way that Sonny became proficient in guitar: “…my dad and Uncle Marty showed me some things. Chords and [all] that. My mom bought me some textbooks on like, music theory

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and shit. So I’d figure out what a major chord was and how that sounded, what you could play with it.” James, who also plays guitar, learned from his father, who was a: “…rhythm guitar player his whole life. He’s explained chords and keys and as much musical stuff as he can to me.” Darrel, whose parents provided him with a classical education in piano and violin, describes growing up in an artistic and musical household where they had:

…an upright piano in the house. My Mom also played [piano] and was into creative arts

like sculpture and painting and things like that. When my Dad was younger he played

[trumpet] in bands. That was where he met my Mother, at a show he played.

Curtis describes his mother’s involvement in his early life, which included a variety of activities as well as music: “…mom always kept me busy—painting classes, piano classes.

Eventually I got a drum set, which is my main instrument.” When Curtis developed an interest in hip-hop, his mother’s reaction was to be: “totally supportive. When I told her that I was interested in being a producer or something she set it up so I could spend a few hours up in a real recording studio to see what that was like.”

Family social capital can be enabling in other ways such as providing emotional support, a critical resource required for persistence in a career as a hip-hop cultural producer. Alex states:

“My mom, you know, she's always supported everything. You know, she said you can be anything you want to be if you dream it and work it.” Rhyland, when describing his mother’s support for his musical endeavors, explains: “My mom has been telling me that I was going to be a star since I was a child. She has a story where, when I came out [was born], the way I looked at my body was… like I got where I was supposed to be.” Brandon, a MC from Columbus, states that: “My Mom has always been and will always be my biggest fan!” and that she:

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“…encouraged me to rap from day one.” Brothers Calvin and Hank, who formed a hip-hop duo, say that their parents were always “interested” in their music: “…even when we were kids and even more now that we’ve gotten some local attention, especially after we were mentioned in an article in [a local hip-hop magazine].” Andre, who has gotten in a lot of trouble over his short life, noted that: “The only thing she [his mother] ever thought I done good… or really tried at, was music. So yeah, she support[ed] that [music].”

Similarly, when explaining his mother’s support for his hip-hop ambitions, Lawrence states:

She [his mother] knew that [hip-hop was] something I love and she encouraged me... and

she kind of blunt, she told me I'm not doing this just because you're my son, because if

you suck I would tell you. I didn't mind someone telling me that. She said 'keep working

at it but not if you're like garbage... keep working at it.’

Here, not only did Lawrence’s mother support him, but she also served as a kind of ‘quality control’ for his musical output. Furthermore, Lawrence’s mother provided motivation by implying that her support was contingent on his effort and output. Lawrence’s family support was not restricted to that of his mother, as he states that: “my mom and my sister are really my biggest supporters.”

Curtis’ mother had supported his earlier musical endeavors and provided her son with both support and guidance for specifically choosing a career in hip-hop cultural production:

I think my mom influenced me a bit because I remember we were talking about what I

wanted to do with my life, because my mom believes that you should have a plan, you

know? If you want to accomplish something you should figure out how to do it and then

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work at it, but you have to have some kind of plan. She asked what I would like to do if I

could, you know, have any job or do anything at all even if it wasn’t realistic? So I said I

would like to be a famous musician, someone like Rick Ross or Kanye [West], or

something. She said I should just ‘go for it’ and she’d support that as long as I, you know,

worked at it and did good in school.

Family support may also extend to having high expectations for activities. Max explains how his parents regulated his involvement with hip-hop based on his school performance: “My mom and stepdad, they were big on making sure I graduated. If I wanted to keep doing the rap thing I needed to pass school, keep my grades up.” Jordan, a MC in Toledo, agreed that his parents supported his musical ambitions contingent on his school performance: “Whenever I wanted something for the studio…” such as “a new mic or a Reason upgrade [music computer program] for Christmas my parents would always say ‘only if you get A’s and B’s’ or ‘stayed good’ at school.”

Darrel relates a similar story, in which family support and high expectations were normalized in the house. These values extended to music and, later, to hip-hop:

…our mother would check our homework, and you know, we had to work on it when we

got home from school. We had to work on schoolwork and it had to be done before

anything else. If it wasn't we weren’t allowed to watch TV later in the evening or

anything like that. You know, there was really high expectations for my sister and I, and

you know… But we were always encouraged by Mom and Dad. You know, that [hard

work] was something we learned very early on. It was the same with music, even when I

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got into hip-hop. If I wanted to rap I had to, you know, behave and follow their rules,

show respect… all that.

Family support can extend to active support of current musical activities, as Sonny explains: “My Dad, he’s gone to every, and I mean every, show that I ever played. He’ll take the day off work or miss sleep to see his boy play.” Furthermore, Sonny’s father also actively takes interest in and offers opinions on his music: “Sometimes he pokes his head in on what I’m doing, what I’m working on, what Topps [the participant Robert] and I are doing. He’ll throw in his opinions too. My Dad has never been one to hold back on a compliment or if he thinks something could be better.” Quinten, whose parents live separately, claimed that: “…hip-hop brought me closer to my pops [his father]” because “…before I started rapping he never paid me no mind…” but since starting a hip-hop career his father “…has been in my life more, he comes to all my shows, bragging and coming backstage, talking his game. He just loves the attention that we all get.”

De’Ante, influenced by his older brother to start rapping, discusses how his brother continues to support his hip-hop career, describing how his brother helped him prepare for live performances:

We will rehearse the songs that we written and produced in the living room, with my

brother right there, in front of him [his brother], sitting on the couch drinking a forty

ounce [of beer]. Like that was always my audition room before we ever do a show… to,

you know, to make sure we perfected every word [and] every footstep.

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Mentors

The sub-theme of mentors describes social capital provided to hip-hop cultural producers by persons outside of their immediate family. Mentors, persons other than immediate family, are another important component of social capital for hip-hop cultural producers as they can offer tutelage for acquiring cultural capital and connections to additional social capital. Seven participants considered mentors to be pivotally important for developing their hip-hop careers.

These mentors provided instruction, knowledge, experience, and inspiration to the participants.

Arthur’s uncle, who owned a recording studio and was an established producer in

Cleveland, mentored him for years in composition and recording technology. He would help by:

“…showing me how to adjust the mixer or hit record on the machine. Bit by bit, when I was over there, I would be like his assistant.” Furthermore, Arthur’s uncle “…took the time to show me how to do things, he knew when to take over when, you know, I was over my head… like mixing tracks down, getting things to hit [sound good], making the vocals so you could hear them and all that.” Rich’s cousin was a professional hip-hop producer and mentored him in hip- hop cultural production. Rich recalls the time he had produced his first hip-hop song:

The first time I had a track done that I was proud of I took it to him and he… [laughs]

Man, he kind of ripped it apart, said the drums weren’t hitting [sounding good], the

vocals were sloppy, and on and on. But he was right, I could instantly hear it. He even

showed me how to fix it. This happened a few times, but each time it made me better and

better.

Rich’s mentorship involved more than just criticism, as his cousin also took him to the recording studio “…and let me watch while he was mixing tracks, explaining why he was doing this or

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that, how to use EQ [equalization] or compression and all that. He was real thorough, answering all my questions.” Furthermore, Rich states that he “wouldn’t have done shit [in his hip-hop career] if it wasn’t for my cousin” as “he would help here and there for years. I could call him up right now and he’d help me, answer questions and all that.”

In addition to musical and technical guidance, mentors can provide key connections into the music industry. This social capital can be instrumental in jumpstarting a career in hip-hop, as

Max’s early experience through his cousin’s social network indicates:

Well, my cousin David used to run with Kid Cudi. This was about the time Cudi was

starting to work with Kanye [West], you know, he was up on the rise, jumping back from

New York City and Cleveland. Well, my cousin, he heard our little jam tapes and passed

it on to Cudi, who let us open up for him a few times. We were like, maybe thirteen [or]

fourteen. Well, whenever Cudi would play up in Cleveland, we would open up for him,

maybe twenty to thirty minutes or so. So there’s us, teenagers and shit, opening up for

Cudi.

Lawrence, too, benefitted from mentorship, having befriended Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes, a founding member of the famous hip-hop group TLC, when he was a teenager opening up concerts for her. To illustrate how close he was with Left Eye he described the time he met her family during a recording session:

I met Left Eye's mom. Her [recording] studio was actually at Left Eye's house—she [Left

Eye] bought a house for them in Stone Mountain. So I was able to actually go over and

chill in her living room, in her kitchen. Crack jokes with her sister. It was pretty good.

Just to say I was there, that I was in Left Eye's house. But, just to say I was in Left Eye's

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house, it was amazing.

This friendship with Left Eye led to Lawrence being mentored on how to achieve success as a hip-hop cultural producer. He described the advice Left Eye gave him:

‘If you work at it long enough, start breathing it, start thinking it, you start becoming it

and you will become it.’ So that's how Left Eye, you know, she said that it manifests like

that. [For me] as I got older as a teenager it went from where I wanted to be famous, to

people said ‘you [Lawrence] should be on TV’, to where I was on TV. So, that [Left

Eye’s advice] is true.

Mentorship may also include persons not directly associated with hip-hop, such as college instructors and teachers. Trey, who became interested in hip-hop after signing up for a class in audio recording at a community college near Toledo, was provided with guidance he was unable to get elsewhere:

My instructor Chris helped me really understand the ins and outs of the studio. You can’t

go to other producers and ask them questions, they the competition. You’d be like ‘hey,

can you tell me how you got that to sound so good?’ and they’d be like ‘get the fuck outta

here.’

Similarly, Sonny described being mentored by a high school teacher who helped him grow as a musician, as well as provided emotional support and direction for his hip-hop career:

My band director in high school, Mr. West, spent a lot of time with me when I was in

jazz band. That’s where I picked up on things like Coltrane or Mingus. He would let me

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borrow CD’s, draw out charts for me. He also encouraged me to pursue any kind of

music, not just jazz. Mr. West put me in touch with some other students that were doing

hip-hop… although it didn’t amount to doing any collaboration. Those guys and I, we

exchanged knowledge, shared tips, that sort of thing. He [Mr. West] just really seemed to

believe in me… he made me see that I could have a chance for doing music

[professionally].

Institutions

The sub-theme of institutions describes social capital acquired as part of membership to formal or informal organizations such as schools and church. Nine participants indicated that associations fostered during primary education contributed to their entry into hip-hop cultural production. Three participants described how school programs such as choir or jazz band facilitated their musical development, as demonstrated by Rhyland: “…well, it was only children’s choir and I didn’t really stick with it. But that experience made me used to being in front of a crowd and, you know, putting on a show and performing.” Robert had a similar experience: “In the third grade my parents made me join youth choir, which I couldn’t stand. But thinking back it gave me sort of a basis for what I did later, you know, being familiar with being musical.”

Sonny also benefited from his high school’s jazz program, by acquiring both a mentor and practical experience:

I played in jazz band in high school. I don’t think I was good enough to play in school

until then. Plus, the instruments I played didn’t really show up in the curriculum until

then anyways. Violins or piano and things like that were more for grade school, those

types of school bands. But yeah, I played all four years.

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In addition to music, Sonny was active with his schools’ art and drama program, an experience he recalls:

I was in the art club and did theater for a while. First some set design, but then later I

played some bit parts. We did one show last year. We did You Can’t Take It With You. It

was fun but my main love is music.

These experiences proved instrumental for Sonny as he was exposed “…to being around more artistic people” that led to “…recording some [fellow] students” using his home studio “…as a way to make some money.” This proved transformative as Sonny started developing “a love for hip-hop” and a realization that he “could do it too.”

While Sonny, Robert, and Rhyland directly benefitted from school programs, other participants described how association with fellow students proved to be helpful for their hip-hop career. Five participants indicated how they were introduced to or developed an artistic interest in hip-hop through social engagements among their peers, despite being disinterested in traditional school programs. Alex describes that he may have participated in school musical activities if “…they had a rap program or teach you how to DJ or mix or something, [then] I would have been interested.”

Both Alex and Brandon were compelled to compete with school rivals who had recorded hip-hop songs. Brandon explains: “There was this other kid—I hated that kid—that recorded some of his stuff [hip-hop music]. I thought it wasn't very good, I thought I could do better than that.” Rap battles, in which people would take turns attempting to ‘one-up’ each other, were common at James’ school:

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My friends and I ‘battled’ [rap battles] almost every day during lunch. We didn’t need a

beat or nothing, we’d just flow [rap], mostly about each others’ mothers, or making fun

of, you know, their clothes, or that they were poor, shit like that.

Like Alex and Brandon, Christian became friends with other youths who were interested in hip-hop, often exchanging verses while walking to and from school: “…that’s where it all started for me. Just slanging verses with my ‘dawgs [friends] walking to school.” Orlando, describing himself as a shy kid, became friends with a group of schoolmates who were into rap:

Then after a while you started seeing like some guys you’re around and you hang with

and they rap. They’re doing this thing. There was just these guys that rapped around me,

that lived locally and I went to school with, that were really good and always threw stuff

on stage and rapping… guys with pencils having a good time at lunch. For me, when I

started it, my goal was I wanna’ be a respectable rapper.

Another institution considered important for participants was church. Five participants stated that church was important for their development or maintenance of a hip-hop career.

Speaking of the importance of the church on hip-hop music, Miles states that “Black music… comes from all over” and that “hip-hop is just like the end of that, all the black music coming together—R&B, church music, blues, gospel, you name it. It just all came together.” Sonny, who was first exposed to music at church when he was a child, remains active with his church, attending:

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…every Sunday. I mean, we still go there, my wife and I, with my parents. We’re all

members at [his church]. Been going there all my life. They got a choir, a band. Music is

a big part of worship.

When asked what role the church continues to play for Sonny’s music, he states: “…they [the church] supports what I do” and “…half the people that go to my shows are from there.” This social network, derived from Sonny’s religious participation, helps to sustain his career by providing emotional support. Sonny describes the importance of the church in providing sustenance and support for his career: “It’s great to be shown that kind of love. People at church are always asking when I’m going to play [live] next.”

The social support of the church can be instrumental for an aspiring hip-hop artist, as

Alex confirms: “…my first time being in front of people as a MC was at the youth club [at church].” Furthermore, Alex explains that: “They encouraged me to keep trying…” because

“…they said I had a God-given gift and have to use it.” This proved fortuitous as Alex got his first opportunity to play a show outside of the church from an older member who knew a promoter:

Where the ball got rolling for me was when Chuck, who knew a guy that put together

shows, heard that there was a kid doing rap. Chuck pulled me aside one day before

services and asked me and my parents if I was, you know, okay with playing an

exhibition show at the Agora [Cleveland club]. That [show] was where I started taking

things more seriously, where I could see actually doing this for real.

Robert discussed how the church allowed him to use his technical knowledge and DJ skills, which built his confidence from an early age:

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I’d DJ some of the [church] parties and things where it wasn’t convenient or really too

appropriate to use the church band and choir. I did quite a few events. I’d help them hook

up or troubleshoot their sound system too, once they figured out I was good with hooking

all that stuff up. You know, I was like twelve telling adults what to do… hook this up to

that, run this cable over here, we can’t use that mic because it needs phantom power, all

those kinds of things. It was a trip.

Connections in the Music Industry

The sub-theme connections in the music industry refer to social capital acquired through personal interaction with the local or national music industry. Making connections with other hip-hop cultural producers or members of the professional music industry is a potentially lucrative source of social capital. To illustrate the importance of having social capital, Andre explains that success in hip-hop is: “…about having connects [connections] and [working with] the right people.” Max, who had at one time a connection with a major label artist, notes that: “I think what really makes an artist great is the ability to branch out, make connections, get that hook up, you know?” William, a 28 year-old MC, explains that in hip-hop you “…can't all do it yourself. That's why you got to branch out and work with people.” These social relationships are important for hip-hop artists, as William further describes, because:

That's where you get your cred—who you working with, who you be dropping verses

with, who you be messing with. Before you know it, the media... you'll be in the

magazines, people paying attention to you... it just all has to come together. It goes back

and forth: audience and industry, industry and audience.

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William continues to describe why having a high profile to establish social connections is important for a hip-hop cultural producer:

It's all about getting noticed. It's all about getting noticed enough that the music biz notice

you. I mean, if you get a Dr. Dre or a NAS or whatever paying attention to your music,

maybe [they will] want to work with you. You might get that call.

Trey confirms that connections can be an important resource for hip-hop artists. He conveys the reticence that people within the industry can have for sharing their contacts for fear of being left “out of the loops [sic]”:

The studio owner Kevin has some contacts, you know, a hand in a couple of cookie jars

and shit. He’s a little stingy with the hook-ups, you know? But I get that—if you just give

everything away it can, you know, impact your business and all. It’s smart business to be

the guy with connections, but once someone come and steals your connections then

you’re, you know, gonna be pushed out of the loops [sic].

Connections within the music industry are needed to build credibility and create opportunities for hip-hop cultural producers. De’Ante describes: “You can’t stay local all your lives. The only way to make it in the industry is to get in the [music] industry. You gotta’ know people…” and this is important to establish a reputation because “…you are judged based on who you are breaking bread [associating] with.” In a similar vein, Curtis describes how social relationships with music industry contacts can lead to an increased reputation and opportunities for a professional career:

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For me, of course you want to be associated with top acts that people have heard of

because that will build up your name, build up your rep, and lead to the next job. Keep

doing that and you can move up the ladder to bigger and bigger acts. I mean, if you look

at the top producers they are always working with the top acts—trying to break into that

circle. That would be my goal. You just have to keep pushing, one step at a time.

Connections within the professional music industry can be a significant resource for hip- hop cultural producers, as Max describes:

Meeting people, that was important too. My cousin introduced us to people that were

older, been in the game for longer, so before you knew it we had adults and more

industry-type people giving us tips, opening doors for us, letting us know what we did

right, what we could improve, who we needed to meet, what shows to play, what venues

to avoid.

Max had his career accelerated through these social contacts. However, his career slowed down after that social contact was lost: “At first we was moving quick, but then it slowed down, you know. We had that Cudi hookup and I thought we were going to make it for sure, but that just didn’t pan out at the time.” Regarding the loss of the “Cudi hookup,” Max reflects that: “It’s been a bit uphill ever since, just doing things one tape at a time, one track at a time, trying to get the word out, get that name out there until you can move on to other things, industry-level things and all that.” Describing the effect of this social relationship with an established artist, Max notes that:

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We had the advantage of getting a lot of advice [from others], even when we didn’t want

it or didn’t listen, because, you know, we were just kids and getting a little cocky because

we thought we had celebrities like Cudi interested in us, we thought maybe we could end

up in Kanye’s crew or something, so yeah, we started to get a little full of ourselves,

which looking back now was definitely a big mistake.

According to Max, such connections are critical for a hip-hop cultural producer since:

Making alliances is what this game is about. I learned that early on when my shit

basically stalled out once I lost that Cudi hook up. Trying to do things on your own is too

hard. You got to have friends, got to have some connections, just working with other

people, keeping busy. Not taking a break. Those are what I see the best artists do, they’re

always into a bunch of things.

Despite having access to a number of music industry contacts through their early relationship with Kid Cudi, Max describes how he and his companions failed to take advantage of those social resources:

I mean, there were times where we were just hanging backstage with industry people,

producers, hangers on, and that… people that had connections or were connections

themselves. I wish we would have gotten those cell numbers, got that hook up, try to

work our way into their circle, you know? Instead, we were caught up on the antics going

on, smoking too many blunts, getting’ too fucked up to realize we were in the center of

things and we were just plain fucking it up.

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However, these industry contacts can be difficult to locate or maintain, as Trey, a MC, describes:

I met Yelawolf in Detroit at an after-party up there. I emailed him a few times but never

heard back, tried to pass him like a demo tape. So, I’ve met some people but none that I

would say I can really rely on or just call up, you know? I’m hoping change up soon,

though, because you have to know people to make it in this biz, you know. Especially

professionals. If you wanna be a pro, you got to get know some pros.

Sonny, too, recognizes that making associations with established music industry artists and other hip-hop cultural producers potentially opens up new avenues and opportunities, stating that getting to know established professionals is: “…something you have to earn.” Outlining his strategy for courting social connections within the music industry, Sonny continues: “That’s why we’re hoping to play some show cases, meet some stars… maybe pass them a mix tape1 so they can check out what we sound like. Hopefully, you know, that turns into something bigger.”

Alex, who has met a number of celebrities from his time working as a music journalist, also recognizes the importance of establishing music industry contacts:

Well, I still got some connects [connections] from [local entertainment magazine]. So I

think they'll help me with this beyond the neighborhood. But it’s about connects you

know. Well, I got a few, you know, at [local entertainment magazine]. Not as far as I

know them on a face-to-face or a first-name basis, you know, not really but you know, I

do kind of have that connection through there and stuff like that now.

1 A short collection of songs to showcase an artist that is used for promotion.

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CULTURAL CAPITAL

Cultural capital consists of embodied dispositions, institutional accreditation or recognition, and objectified, material forms (Bourdieu 1986). There are three sub-themes identified that are associated with the theme of cultural capital: (a) putting in work, (b) learning the craft, and (c) creating the product. Putting in work refers to ‘work on oneself’ necessary to pursue hip-hop cultural production. Learning the craft refers to actions performed by participants in the pursuit of mastering the cultural production of hip-hop. Lastly, creating the product outlines the process of creating cultural commodities.

Putting in Work

The sub-theme of putting in work outlines the individual drive, motivation, and effort committed to hip-hop cultural production. The successful pursuit of hip-hop cultural production requires drive and effort on behalf of the participants, described by Nate as “…putting in some work.” This work ethic is explained by Miles: “…like Pac [Tupac Shakur] said, you have to do whatever you can to make out of the system, go around, go over the system. Whatever that system is. Like the music biz. That game.” Putting in work to improve one’s capacities in composition, performance, production, and other necessary dispositions, is reportedly central to the lived experience of hip-hop artists. In order to engage in this self-work, hip-hop artists must be motivated and driven for long periods of time, even years, as Nate explains:

I feel like [I] wasn’t making progress [in hip-hop] until I started putting in some work.

My mistake was thinking shit was gonna be quicker, move faster. Once I accept, you

know, that it was going to take serious work and dedication I was like ‘all right.’ Then I

realized why some people make it big and most people don’t… it’s about that work ethic.

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The motivation for putting in work on one’s hip-hop career is vital. James describes his formula for success as being: “…working day in and day out… to master my craft.” James’ primary source of income is writing hip-hop music, an endeavor that he works on: “…from the time I wake up until I go to bed. I try to write one or two beats [songs] each and every day.”

Kennan describes a similar work ethic towards his artistry: “I’m always writing or thinking about writing. I fill up notebook after notebook for songs, work and re-work them until I have something that’s [on] fire.” Andre, a 24 year-old MC, observes: “…the hardest thing [in hip-hop] is staying dedicated every day” because “…it takes years to be in a position you have a chance to get anywhere.” De’Ante, who has participated in hip-hop cultural production for seventeen years, summarizes this attitude: “You gotta’ keep driving, keep grinding’” because “…if you want to get paid you got to put in the work.”

Tayvon, who was formerly signed to a major label deal, says that a hip-hop artist must have: “…total passion in order to make a living at this shit. I’ve got three hundred finished songs on a computer downstairs that haven’t been heard in years. A whole bunch of memories.”

Continuing, Tayvon stated: “…every n***a gets into rap for the same reason I did—[to make] big dollars.” Furthermore, Tayvon notes the primary difference between himself and less successful artists is that he “…worked twenty-four-seven” on his music, dedication that resulted in him “…getting divorced twice.” Tayvon explains that his first wife described herself as a

“digital widow” (in reference to digital recording technology) due to the amount of time he spent

“grinding out beats, writing new music, or just being at the studio non-stop.”

The ability to focus attention on cultural production, despite other distractions, is described by Xavier, a twenty-seven year-old MC from Cleveland, as being essential for creating hip-hop because: “...the party being around the hip-hop game… can get in the way… of your

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own hip-hop game [career].” Xavier continues that he has found that: “…keeping the ladies in check” is important to the hip-hop career because: “…bitches like you because you rap, but

[they] will do anything to distract you from [working on] your music.” William agrees that focusing on cultural production is essential to succeed in hip-hop:

I need to get more serious. I’ve been thinking about the music more. Getting things

together. You know, girls be getting in the way of your music, [regular] work getting in

the way. I’ve been wanting to take it more seriously again.

Putting in work requires motivation and inspiration, some of which can come from within the hip-hop culture, as successful artists often serve as role models for aspirational hip-hop cultural producers. For example, Miles drew inspiration to continue pursuing his cultural production career from reading an autobiography of a famous hip-hop artist: “Well, I thought

Jay-Z's book inspired me for keeping pushing in hip-hop, I was almost going to throw it in but now I want to throw down.”

The drive to perform work on oneself to acquire and build capacities is an arduous process that can prove exhausting, particularly for participants lacking musical preparation.

Illustrating the need for motivation, Nate explains his early experience attempting to write and produce his own music:

…it took me about two or three months just to figure out how to put a few things [of

music] together. I mean, it sounded bad. I knew it was terrible. I thought it was going to

be pretty easy, just put some beats together and lay some raps on top—instant rapper.

Man, was I wrong! [laughs] I just gave up after a couple more months of that.

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Nate’s initial difficulty with creating his own music led him to quit hip-hop. However, based on a chance meeting with Rob Base (a famous rap artist) after a hip-hop concert, Nate decided to try hip-hop again: “[After meeting Rob Base] was when I got more serious [about hip-hop], and decided to give it another show.” Nate felt that “…if someone like Rob Base can make it, I can too” since “…he was just a regular dude… just like me.” When asked what changed between his initial attempts at hip-hop and now, Nate responded that he: “accept[ed] that it was going to take serious work and dedication.” Furthermore, Nate: “found out you can just buy beats or pay people to work with you,” thus allowing him to focus on what he felt was his great strength, which is “…being a performer.”

Trey, who has been involved in hip-hop for ten years, experienced similar setbacks early in his career, illustrating the cost for failing to put in work. Trey explains his regret for not putting in work at the beginning of his career in cultural production, stating:

I just wish I would have started earlier because it takes more than a couple of years to get

your shit straight. My biggest regret was sitting around, doing nothing when I could have

been putting things together. But, you know, how was I supposed to know where to

begin? I’m not saying that music is easy, but everyone gotta’ start somewhere, so the

earlier you start, the quicker you gonna’ get where you wanna’ be.

The need to stay motivated, to continue to put in work over time, is essential for a career in hip-hop cultural production. Max, who has been working on his hip-hop career for twelve years, describes the career paths of early collaborators with whom he began creating hip-hop:

It was mainly me, Chris, and Scott. We still talk, but of the three of us I’m the only one

still trying to grind it out [continue creating hip-hop]. Scott mostly just tried to DJ and all

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that, but he never was too serious about it all. Chris, he’s been doing that school and work

thing here and there. I’m the only one… still doing stuff.

Motivation to put in work is a key factor for improvement, given the demands for culturally producing hip-hop at a professional level. The hip-hop cultural producer must persist in expanding their ability to perform and compose songs, a process that is arduous, frustrating, and often exhausting. William explains: “…the first couple of songs I did sucked. They were terrible. The first couple of things I didn’t let anyone hear, [because] they were straight up garbage.” Lester, describing his early experiences, observes that initially he felt a rush when creating his own music, but it quickly turned to frustration: “For me, at first it was just something to do, it was fun to try and keep up with the big boys, but when I compared what I was doing compared to big artists I realized that my stuff wasn’t any good…. Which almost made me throw the towel in.” Lester describes struggling with personal limitations, observing that he:

“…realized I didn’t know what I was doing” but “everyone started where I was at. I just needed to figure things out and get to work.” Once he made this decision to improve his craft, Lester says that his attitude towards hip-hop: “…took on a whole ‘nuther life when I wanted to take it to the next level and the next level after that… and you just keep pushing.”

Struggling for improvement, putting in the work to successfully culturally produce hip- hop involves persistence. William explains his own personal motivation to acquire the necessary experience and knowledge involved: “being hard on myself.” William further describes how putting in work aided him to move past setbacks when it was combined with hard work and self- reflection:

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Mostly I think I was my own teacher. Mistakes. Sucking. That was my own learning. If

I'm going to do something I'm going to do it right. You know, the first things I did wasn't

right, but I could see myself getting there. And sure enough... I learned a little more from

[each of] my mistakes and my [own] criticism.

William estimates that it took “two to three years” of putting in work to develop his abilities to the point that he was confident enough in his material to allow other people to hear it. William realized he was ready because his work began:

…to put a smile on my face, and then you think about, should I show this to other

people? Most people didn't even know I was doing this [creating hip-hop] and from there,

you know, I just thought I'd just keep doing it and doing it until it got better and then just

come out of the blue, which is kind of what I did, and I just said ‘hey check this [music]

out, this is real decent.’

Here, William continued putting in work until he reached a threshold where he felt his cultural products were of sufficient quality to show to others and publicly announce his intentions to pursue a career in hip-hop.

The ability to self-criticize can provide motivation to put in work for hip-hop cultural producers, as Max illustrates. He realized: “...our first show got an all right reaction and all, I think because we was just kids.” However, Max considered the show to be sub-par because:

“…we used some of those beats we made in Fruity Loops [software program for writing music] for the backing. Just pump that stuff over the speakers and then spit our shit.” Max continues: “I wasn’t too happy with how that [show] came out, you know, we needed more practice and all

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that” because “we were messing up lines, forgetting things, getting off beat.” Max considered that show a failure:

After that first show, because I felt a little embarrassed, we definitely worked [on

ourselves] more because playing in front of people was a rush. You’re like the center of

attention and all that. But, when you’re in front of a crowd like that you don’t want things

to be fucked up, you want to give them something positive to remember you by.

Ultimately, based on their first performance, Max became motivated to put work into his hip-hop career, exclaiming:

We definitely upped the ante a bit after that first show as far as practice-wise. By the time

we played our second show we had started working with producers, using professional

beats and things, stuff we found online or got from a producer, and just took it a lot more

seriously. Each show or each time we went to the studio was like a lesson, another lesson

learned.

Learning the Craft

The sub-theme of learning the craft describes the techniques, experiences, and strategies employed to master the process of hip-hop cultural production. Learning the craft of hip-hop cultural production requires cultivation of a specific type of cultural capital. This cultural capital consists of skills involved in musical composition (“writing beats”), vocal performance, crafting lyrics, recording engineering, and other tasks involved in creating culturally appropriate, convincing artistic works. None of these abilities are innate; they must be learned through experience, guidance, and hard work. Trey explains his hip-hop career: “…all started as a dream

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when I was a teen, just something I wanted to do but I didn’t know how to do it. Didn’t even know where to start, you know?”

Eighteen participants report they primarily taught themselves the craft of culturally producing hip-hop. James, for example, states that he was: “…generally self-taught. I acquired a large amount of my knowledge from working two years at Guitar Center. I walked in there and I was just a sponge.“ However, this association only lasted a short time, as James explained: “In a lot of ways I feel like I’ve outgrown Guitar Center.” James describes an ongoing quest for knowledge: “I never get to a point where I feel I know enough” about culturally producing hip- hop.

Being experienced in hip-hop production can allow for greater artistic expression and freedom. Miles, for example, describes his transition from purchasing pre-made music into learning the craft of music creation:

I started working with people that were writing beats on their own. I was buying their

beats but they didn't always have what I was hearing or what I wanted to flow [rap] to. So

I asked one guy, Ron was his name, if I could write one with him. I would play stuff on

his keyboard, he had a [Korg] Triton—those were hot back in the day—we would put it

all together on there. He'd do some turntable stuff too, when we'd record it. Looking back

it was real basic compared to now, we could only record like one thing at a time.

Miles became dissatisfied with this experience and made the further decision to learn how to produce hip-hop music by himself. He recalls:

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I figured I could save money and just get my own setup, do it all myself. Once I saw what

you could do [in the studio], that was all I needed. I figured I'd just, you know, figure the

rest out on my own. I had more time than money to get it right.

Due to the advent of computer-based recording in the last fifteen years, many participants began their journey into hip-hop cultural production on their own using software that is inexpensive or illegally acquired. Describing how he learned to create hip-hop, Kennan states that he learned: “…basically in the computer. I [have] got samplers and plugins [software instruments] that I can control with the computer. That’s how I learned—just messing around with that.” Likewise, Darrel indicates that his entry into hip-hop production: “…started out with a cracked [illegal] copy of Fruity Loops [audio recording and music composition software] back in the day.” Rich, a professional hip-hop beat maker and producer, relates a similar story about how he: “…downloaded a crack [pirated] copy of Fruity Loops when I was just getting started” until he “figured out all I could on my own.” After this initial discovery and learning phase, Rich says he: “contacted my cousin who is a professional audio engineer” and “…bombarded him with every question you can think of.”

When asked to describe how he first started creating beats, James admitted: “…it was the days of cracked software… I just looked around the Internet and found a good crack of Fruity

Loops…” and “…the rest is history.” Rhyland, who had musical experience with trumpet and drums, stated that he: “knew music… but writing music and beats in the computer, using Fruity

Loops or Reason [music composition program], was something entirely new” that “took me a while to figure out.”

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While access to computer programs (digital audio workstations) to write and record hip- hop is readily available, either through illegally pirated or purchased copies of software, those types of programs do not write or record the music automatically. Instead, digital audio workstations are reliant on the musical and technical skills of the operator. This means that cultural competencies in music composition and audio engineering must still be acquired to use recording software. Darrel, classically trained in piano and violin, explains how cultural capital in musical composition can inform the use of modern recording technology:

…the hard part is knowing the music, but I already had that, you know? I had that

[musical training] in advance. I knew how to write music already. I was able to go just

from playing piano and then, you know, just making hip-hop beats. It was easy.

Sonny, who like Darrel received a significant musical preparation prior to pursuing hip- hop cultural production, argues that his skill set prepared him for writing and composing:

Honestly, compared to ‘real’ music, hip-hop is pretty basic. No chord changes, key

changes, or modulations or anything like that. I like a lot of jazz music, John Coltrane

and Miles Davis—things like that. That’s what I study Coltrane Changes and things like

that. I’d say I’m fairly smart about music overall, which made doing hip-hop, and making

money, a pretty easy decision for me.

While prior musical competence provides a significant advantage for creating hip-hop, these cultural competencies can be acquired at the onset of deciding to pursue a career in cultural production. Either way, musical competence is needed to create hip-hop successfully. Tayvon, who has twenty-two years experience in hip-hop, stresses that: “[you] can’t expect to have a

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career in music unless you know music” because creating music without knowing it is “…like trying to be a lawyer and not knowing the law” or attempting to be “…an engineer that doesn’t know how to count.”

Rich describes his initiation of music lessons after receiving advice from his cousin, who was an already established hip-hop producer:

I signed up right away to get some keyboard lessons. He said if you want to learn to play

you have to do it every day, so I’d practice every day for a few hours. Chords, scales, all

that kind of thing. I only stayed in lessons for about a year but that was enough to where I

could basically keep teaching myself.

In addition to learning how to play an instrument, Rich explains that his cousin advised him to:

“…learn [music] theory” because “…it allows you to write music quickly.” In addition, Rich explained that: “My cousin filled in some stuff as well, teaching me intervals, how chords are constructed, all that kind of thing.”

Similarly, Braxton realized early in his hip-hop cultural production career that his ability to express himself musically would be facilitated by improving his musical competence, explaining: “I had been playing my Casio [keyboard] a little bit for a few years, but nothing that was too advanced. But, when I decided I wanted to get into rap, it made sense to, you know, improve my playing.” Xavier also indicated that his decision to learn keyboard was entirely motivated by his desire to become a hip-hop cultural producer, a decision he made while incarcerated:

While I was locked up, you know, I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted to do

once I got out again. The guys I was locked up with did [rap] battles, you know—rap

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battles, just to kill time. That made me really think about doing that when I got out. So,

when I got out [of juvenile detention] I just dove straight into my music. That’s why I

signed up for some music lessons, bought a used keyboard.

Although musical beats are an important part of hip-hop, they are only one piece of the finished product, along with vocals and production. Consequently, some hip-hop artists focus specifically on one aspect, such as vocals. Fifteen participants indicated that they prioritize vocal performance over music composition, production, or engineering. Daniel, explains why he focuses on his vocal skills:

I’m a rapper, you know, my voice and my mind are my instrument. That’s why rap is so

popular, man, because anyone can pick up a mic and spit some shit [vocally perform] if

you got heart. You don’t have to spend, I dunno’, like years building up to something.

You can just do it, just go for it. That’s what I did.

Here, Daniel emphasizes the importance of vocal performance in hip-hop, noting that his contribution as a MC is just as important, perhaps more important, than the music. Furthermore, for someone lacking musical training, Daniel observes that years of training and instruction may not be necessary to be successful at hip-hop.

Further illustrating the importance of specializing in vocal performance, Nate explains:

“I’m a rapper, I take care of that. The beats are important, but not as important as the lyrics, my performance and all that. People, they be paying attention to the vocalist, not the DJ, sorry to say.” Darrel observes:

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In hip-hop, the lyrics and voice are the most important thing[s]. For the music, as long as

people can feel the beat and get that head nodding, it’s all good. You know, they

[listeners] tend to pay more attention to the lyrics and the way that the lyrics are brought

across [vocally]. You know someone like Tupac he had a good voice and good lyrics, so I

think that's why he was so big.

Echoing Darrel’s perspective on the centrality of vocals in hip-hop music, Trey describes what he views as the advantage of hip-hop for those lacking formal musical training or skill:

That’s the beauty of hip-hop, you can work with what you got, feel me? Samplers do

most of the work for you, loops, chopping and screwing, just messing with audio and all

that. What you don’t have in, say, music talent or whatever, you can make up with being

clever, having studio chops, you know, with a little studio magic. Anyways, the music is

secondary in hip-hop, what counts is the vocals and the lyrics, that lyrical flow. That’s

what draws you in, not the music. Hip-hop needs a catchy beat and all that, but without

the rap on top you have nothing. So yeah, I learned the studio and put time in to develop

those skills and work on my flow.

In addition to focusing on vocals, some hip-hop artists specialize in studio production and engineering technology. Audio production and engineering are essential skills for producing professional sounding cultural products, including hip-hop. Acquiring competency in these technical areas offers the opportunity to engage in a hip-hop career or supplements other musical or vocal abilities. Sonny explains how enrolling in an audio engineering program aided his transition into hip-hop production: “Really, what I wanted to do was music, maybe engineering.

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So I enrolled in the Recording Workshop and spent two months there, learning how to operate a mixing console, and recording.” This exposure to recording technology served as a gateway for

Sonny’s later artistic and professional activity. He explained that the Recording Workshop was:

“…very useful. Topps [his partner, the participant Robert] and I can do pretty much everything ourselves. I even make some extra money producing local guys at our little bedroom studio.”

The ability to create professional sounding recordings is important for hip-hop cultural producers. However, these skills are hard won, requiring years of experience and trial and error to achieve competence. Miles explains the importance of obtaining a high quality, professional sound, stating that he: “…figured out... it's, for real, hard to sound like a pro. You can rap like a pro, but sounding like one is something different.” In a similar vein, Curtis explains the value of his visits to a local recording studio where his mother paid for the engineers to give him a tour:

So we [his mother and him] drove up to Ken-Dell Studios [Delaware] and their engineers

showed me around, introduced me to the mixing board, showed me the rooms, and that

kind of thing. I mean, we had to pay for the time, but mom thought I should be familiar

with that end or see if that was something I wanted to do.

This studio tour proved useful for Curtis, who built his own home studio in order to teach himself engineering as well as produce his music:

I have a small setup at home that I mess with, but I don’t think I want to really engineer

things. Maybe [I will] be a producer, I think I might like that. But to be a good producer

you have to know your way around the studio at least a bit. I mean, the engineers seem to

be the ones that know how to use all the gear, but the producer should have some idea of

what they are doing and all that.

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Arthur had a similar experience, although he was allowed access to a small studio in

Cleveland that was owned by his uncle, who spent a number of years teaching him music production and advanced techniques of audio recording. Explaining the depth of his mentorship,

Arthur describes that his uncle: “ …took the time to show me how to do things. He knew when to take over when I was over my head.” Arthur’s uncle taught him: “mixing tracks down, getting things to hit [sound good], [and] making the vocals so you could hear them.”

Another resource for acquiring the cultural capital needed for producing hip-hop is the

Internet. The explosion of communication technology, coupled with the ease of access to user- generated content such as online tutorials, articles, and other resources involving the cultural production of hip-hop, provides a robust resource for aspirational hip-hop artists to learn more about their craft. Darrel explains that you can learn: “…if you have a computer and you can look stuff up on the Internet, I mean a couple videos about how you know, better produce hip-hop music, you know, put a better mix on it sound like it was in a finished professional mix.”

Continuing on, Darrel describes what he feels is the importance of the Internet for hip-hop artists: “…anything you ever want to know about making a beat or being a rapper is like on the

Internet and I think there is even more out today.”

Max, too, admits that: “We didn’t know anything about music really, so it was just messing around…” until his friends and he “…figured out how much was on the Internet about making music.” Furthermore, their ability to create music was accelerated because they could:

“…use some of the sounds that we found on the Internet because there was a bunch of stuff out there.”

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Like Max, Trey learned the bulk of his cultural production knowledge from the Internet, stating that his ability to create beats and engineer music was learned from: “…watch[ing] tutorials on YouTube or Vimeo on making beats. Sometimes there’d be some useful information, sometimes not.” Explaining the importance of the Internet for learning how to compose or produce hip-hop music, even for the technically experienced, Lester states:

…there are plenty of vids on YouTube to up your game. Increase your knowledge, [and]

see new ways to do things. There’s a vid with one of the Shocklee’s [music producers:

The Bomb Squad] that said they used to almost unplug the cable when they were

sampling because it would kill everything but the bass. I wanna’ try that some day.

Similarly, James describes that most of his abilities were learned from Internet websites, claiming that: “…between Guitar Center and the WarBeats [Internet] community, that’s where I got the most knowledge from…” for being a producer and hip-hop artist. When asked to describe the WarBeats website, James said:

It [WarBeats] is ran by a Spanish guy that seems to not have a lot of time to run the site

now, so it’s becoming outdated. But he’s put up a ton of tutorials on YouTube about how

to do things in a very professional way. It’s not like ‘hey there’s this drum in the

bathroom’ or ‘this is how you do this compressor move.’ It’s very technical and

professional as far as how he explains it like how a teacher would do it.

Creating the Product

The sub-theme of creating the product outlines the process of writing, performing, and recording hip-hop cultural products. The culmination of hip-hop cultural production is the

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creation of recorded artistic works such as songs or albums. This practice requires the combination of music and vocals that are brought together using audio engineering skill in a recording environment. Thus, this process of creating a hip-hop product requires the composition of music, the writing of lyrics, and record production. However, because the expansion of home recording technology opened up the possibility for artists to produce themselves, the location for creating hip-hop products varies from professional to home recording studies.

Typically, the first element required to create hip-hop is the music, often called a beat.

Participants identified two primary ways that beats are acquired; they are: (a) created by the artist or group, or (b) purchased from a producer. Orlando explains that there are: “…really only three choices for a MC—you either make your own beats, or work with someone that makes beats, or you buy them from a beat-maker.” When asked which way is best, Orlando observed: “It doesn’t really matter… the only thing that counts in the end is how hard the track hits, how catchy it is… whether it gets a good reaction or not.”

Jordan, a MC from Toledo who composes his own music, has a different judgment, claiming that: “I prefer to write my own beats” because he “…never hear[s] what I’m looking for in someone else’s music.” When describing why he was dissatisfied with other producer’s music,

Jordan explains: “Well, when producers are writing beats to sell they… try to make it sound like everything else out there,” which clashes with Jordan’s artistic goals since he “…wants to sound like himself, not like everybody else that’s already out there.” Similarly, Braxton says of his writing process that it consists of: “…just making a whole bunch of beats when I get in the mood to do that” and “keeping the best ones for myself and putting the rest up to sell [on the Internet].”

Rich, who is both a MC and producer, explains that his working habits involve: “…try[ing] to

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write a beat every day or two—if it’s a quality beat I might keep it for myself or my artists.

Otherwise, it goes on sale someplace.”

The process of writing beats varies from artist to artist. Tayvon describes his approach to creating beats as: “…haphazard. Sometimes I’ll sit down [to write music] every day for a week” and other times he “…might not walk into my studio for a month.” James, a producer and beat writer, is more disciplined. He explains that he “…goes into the basement [studio] first thing every morning to just grind it out [make music].” Lawrence, who typically purchases beats due to his lack of musical training, occasionally writes his own music when he is “inspired by something I heard, whether its on the radio or whatever,” even though “…in the end my beat won’t sound anything like what I first heard.” Like Lawrence, Max did not have the advantage of a musical background, but writes his own beats, describing his process of composition as:

…playing around, slowly figuring things out, [and] looking some stuff up. But, like I

said, we didn’t really have any idea what to do with music, or what makes this sound or

that. We used some of the sounds that came with [Fruity Loops], little snippets of music

and things—loops and that.

Hip-hop is unique in that artists lacking formal musical skills are still able to compose music due to computer sequencing and sampling technologies. Trey, a Toledo-based MC, explains that: “…nowadays the tools [music software] is so good, so easy to use that… anyone that takes the time can make a beat.” Hank, who produces music with his brother, Calvin, notes that: “The real beauty of hip-hop is that anyone can do it… if they learn the tools to make the music” since hip-hop “…is about the beat, not playing live music.”

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The ease with music can be composed using modern software tools and electronic instruments simplifies the process of writing music, allowing non-musicians the potential to construct their own beats. Lester, who lacks a musical background, illustrates the power of the modern digital audio workstation for composing music:

Nowadays in the computer you can just put everything on the [music composition] grid,

have it all lined up. Running the equipment isn’t that hard once you play around with it. I

mean, the MPC [sampler] is pretty straightforward—you just assign sounds or loops or

samples or whatever to the pads and just kind of tap it out.

Lester continues, describing how he supplements his rudimentary abilities by borrowing from established artists to aid his writing process within the modern music production studio:

I have a poster right in my studio that has chords and stuff on it. It would be great if I just

knew all of them. [If I] had them memorized. I cheat, though, and just steal chord

changes from old hit songs, that kind of thing. [laughs] You know, just take some Al

Green chords and put some chopped and screwed samples over it, add an 808 boom and

you’ve got a track! [laughs]

Hip-hop cultural producers with musical training also creatively borrow from other artists as part of their songwriting. Braxton observes that: “All of the classic chord changes and shit have already been figured out. The trick is to steal something in a way that people can’t, you know, figure out you stole it.” Similarly, Rhyland reports: “I’ll take the parts of, like, a Michael

Jackson song that make it catchy… and then add a new melody or beat to it” so that “…the end

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product sounds nothing like the original.” As an example of creative borrowing to aid in songwriting, Sonny describes his approach to writing hip-hop beats:

I’ll kind of play around, maybe on the guitar, maybe with my keyboard, some chord

changes. Try to find something that sounds nice. Sometimes I’ll ‘borrow’ a Herbie

Hancock [famous jazz musician] chord change, change the tempo or the instruments and

you’d never know.

While sixteen participants write their own beats, fourteen artists prefer to purchase beats from other producers. Andre, who lacked musical education prior to becoming a hip-hop cultural producer, exclaims: “Why play? You can just buy up the music and just throw your shit on there.” William, too, observes that purchasing beats is convenient to his working style. He states his approach to buying beats: “When I do a project I buy beats or hire a producer to work on beats, you know. We'll roll up on the studio and just go.” Andre describes how finding beats can inspire his artistry: “I mean, I find a beat, I get hyped about it, I call the studio up and write it right there. You know, bounce back and forth between my boys. We just spit it out.”

Nate had attempted hip-hop and quit, frustrated at the difficulty of composing and recording music with no prior experience, but later had his career aspirations revitalized when he discovered that he could purchase beats:

I did just what Rob [Base] said—either jump online and buy some beats or find someone

to work with. I didn’t know anyone at that time doing rap music, so I just went online and

started looking for beats I liked. I put all this pressure on myself though, going back and

forth about maybe this beat, or that one, or this one is better. All that kind of stuff.

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Nate further explains how, even after purchasing a beat, he had to work on getting his lyrics and vocals to fit with the track:

Finally, I just bought my two favorites and started trying to come up with some raps that

fit on top of it. That part was harder than I thought as well. See, I’d be coming up with

stuff in my head and then, sure enough, it wouldn’t work when I’d actually try it with the

song. I could just tell it was off. I probably spent a month working on those two songs,

starting over, writing new lyrics, all that. Finally, I heard about a dude that had a studio

so I thought I’d take my track there, give it a try… [to] see if I was any good.

In a similar position as Nate, Max describes the appeal of purchasing beats from other hip-hop producers as a way to accelerate a musical career for those who are unfamiliar with composing music or audio recording:

Well, early on we figured out the quickest way to do things was find a producer and just

buy the music up, you know, as beats. I ain’t no musician, ain’t got time for that neither.

So yeah, we hooked up some producers, just buying beats, using they studios to drop our

vocals in, mixing down an instrumental type track with only a few dubs for live, then mix

a real version that has all the vocals.

Purchasing beats also allows hip-hop artists to greatly expand the number of songs they produce, potentially saving time and energy that can be spent on promotion, performance, or other aspects vital to a career in hip-hop cultural production. William observes:

In the time that it would take me to write the music I could have listened to a hundred of

someone else's music. There's all kinds of music out there. I look for the ones [beats] that

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inspire me. With so much music out there why take the time, you know, to write it when

you could… It's just quicker and easier to buy it.

Searching for new beats can be a daunting and expensive task, considering the amount of music for sale on the Internet. Alex reports: “I try to be careful for buying beats because, you know, you can't get your money back.” He also admits, however, that he is constantly:

“…look[ing] around for beats online, kind of digging around and shit.” Similarly, Daniel explains his quest like this:

I’m always looking for good beats, just listening on RawHeatz, JBZ, Cratez [websites

that sell beats] looking for something with heat, you know? I collect beats. [I] have about,

I dunno, thirty? At least that I’m not even using. I buy ‘em up if I like them, maybe I’ll

use it, maybe not, but at least after I buy [the beat], it’s mine.

In addition to writing or purchasing beats, artists can also act as their own producer.

Traditionally, producers bring together songs and performers and are responsible for the creation of recorded music products. In many ways, producers are in charge of the production of audio and responsible for delivering a finished product to the record label for distribution and sales. In the modern age, however, the role of producer has become more elastic, sometimes being combined with other roles or taken on by the artists themselves. Andre, who produces and oversees his own music, explains how he manages his beat writers and recording engineers: “I mean, if it ain't sounding finished to me, then it ain't finished. You know it's my job to tell them

[his production personnel] when it's done, when I think it's hype [excellent] or when it's not.”

Continuing, Andre characterizes his position within the artistic process as being: “…the center of

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it. [I am] the big dog [in charge]. I got my crew [other MC’s and engineers], you know. We go in there and we just tear it up.” As his own producer, Andre describes his role as: “…making sure that my shit [music] ends up sounding the way it should” even if he has to “make sure nobody is being lazy.”

Robert, who works with Sonny on hip-hop, often takes on the role of producer in addition to contributing as an artist. He explains: “My job is to help put everything together, kind of serve as quality control.” Faced with a similar dilemma, Daniel explains his role as artist and producer:

My role is the artist. I’m the boss, it’s all on my dime, feel? I know how it all needs to

come together, how to sound. I see my role is to let the engineer make me happy—if he

isn’t, then I’ll let them know I want to hear more bass, or more vocals, or that it needs to

hit harder, whatever. My job is to pick things apart, basically be kind of a dick to make it

right.

The producer role may also include audio recording duties. Nine participants reported producing their own music in this fashion using their own personal home recording studio. This has become more common due to the lowered cost and relative ease of recording audio using modern digital devices. Miles describes how he put his first home recording studio together:

“Well, at first I really... didn't need a lot. I got some cracks, first it was Fruity Loops and then

Reasons [sic], so that was free.” Once Miles got started, he added on to his home recording system in order to record his vocals. He recalls that he: “Got a mic at, think it was Guitar Center, for like maybe a hundred bucks. [I] already had a computer. So I got something to record with when I got the mic.” These purchases were informed by the more experienced sales staff at a music store; Miles explains: “The Guitar Center guys helped me to pick it out, one of those small desktop interfaces. I used that setup for a bit.” When asked, Miles states that his entire home

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recording setup cost him: “…perhaps a thousand dollars, counting all the software.”

Summarizing the world of hip-hop audio production, Andre characterizes home studios as being a primary site where “real” music is created, observing that:

Guys that got stuff in spare rooms, guys got stuff basements, back rooms—a real hip-hop

studio. All you need to make hip-hop, you know, is a beat. You know, you need a mic

[microphone] to spit in and computer to put it together.

The relative affordability provided by modern recording technologies makes owning your own production studio an attractive option for hip-hop cultural producers. Sonny explains that this setup is powerful because: “We can do almost everything in Logic [audio software].

Sampling, synths, you name it. It’s not a big setup but it works good.” Alex, too, has assembled his own music writing and recording space, taking charge of the production of his music and acting as his own producer:

I got a small [recording] setup. [I have] got the same mic everyone use, think it's a 57

[Shure SM57b microphone]. My music’s just recorded using Cubase [digital audio

workstation software] for my self, my own demos. Once those are sounding how they

should I book some studio time because, you know, they have the stuff I can’t afford

[like] the Neumann 87 [microphone] or the Avalon [tube preamp].

Like Alex, Rich has assembled his own home recording studio that has grown over the years:

Well, I started on Fruity Loops [music software] which is what I still use to write most of

my beats and record, especially when they [Image Line Software] improved it over the

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years. My setup is all software-based but I have a keyboard and that Maschine [Native

Instruments software controller] that hooks up to everything so it feels like you are

fucking with hardware.

Illustrating the power of home studio technology, Sonny and Robert have created their own workspace over the years where they write and record their music. Robert describes their work as being delegated among them since: “Sonny has more of the studio skills. He went to school for that stuff. Now, I know my way around a mixing console and all that, so we share

[duties].” Sonny, Robert’s partner, describes their recording studio as being:

Pretty much one of the extra bedrooms at Topps’ [participant Robert’s] house—we have

a mic, put together a makeshift [vocal] booth, using some old mattresses in the closet. I

mean, once you have the DAW [digital audio workstation] and [audio software] plugins

to make the music, all you really need is a mic [microphone]. We picked up a used SM-7

[microphone] from Sam Ash [music store] for a few hundred. That mic is the bomb.

Nowadays, you can run everything in software.

Digital audio workstations offer musicians the ability to write and record their music, but some hip-hop artists use their home studio primarily for writing hip-hop beats, choosing to record their vocals and complete the production at a professional studio. Rhyland explains his recording studio is used primarily for: “…writing tracks and making beats” because he

“…prefers to record and mix in the [professional] studio.” Rhyland explains he decided to work in this fashion because he cannot: “…afford really high end monitors [speakers] to give the tracks a proper mix.” Although modern digital production tools are affordable, many important

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items, such as microphones or nearfield monitors, are too expensive for many hip-hop producers.

Trey explains his process of working at home and finishing his music at a professional studio:

I do everything else production-wise up in my place with my little setup. But I ain’t got a

[vocal] booth or nothing like that. I don’t even have a mic at home, you know? I work on

the music, practice along, get a feel for how I want shit to go and then, when the time is

right, I go up to the studio.

Max observes: “If you want to sound pro, you gotta’ go to a [professional] studio, do things right.” Lester writes his beats at home, but utilizes professional studios to record his vocals and finish his tracks. He states: “Oh, when I go to record, I do it up at the studio—that’s where I lay down all the vocals and put it all together, you know?” Speaking on his love of being in the studio, Andre declares: “…I'm a studio hound. [If] I get an idea [for a song], I ring up my producer, ring up my engineer [and] get in the studio. You know, [to] knock that shit out.” Trey says that he works exclusively at: “…Fat Sound [Recording Studios] over on Jefferson. It’s real pro, they even did some stuff for Shady Records and all that.” Miles, a MC who largely writes his own music, explains that the advantage to working in a professional music studio is access to specialists to divide the labor of cultural production:

I started taking my music to the studios, letting other people into the fold. Getting their

skills on the record. It's too much to be everything—rapper, producer, engineer,

promoter... too many hats. I had to focus on what I do which is writing and rapping. Let

someone else figure out how to make it sound good.

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So while many of participants take advantage of a home studio setup, the professional recording studio remains an important site for hip-hop cultural production. Access to a professional staff of engineers, producers, and other technical experts allows hip-hop artists to focus on their specific strengths, which may be vocal performance, songwriting, or crafting lyrics. Thus, a collaborative environment is created where different specialists work together in order to create finished cultural products. William describes: “My producer can't rap, but he produce. He can make it sound real nice. He can't rap, I can't produce. We come together to make a product. That's a team.” Additionally, the professional studio enables an artist the ability to specialize in their performance abilities, as Alex explains:

I believe in specialists… let me do what I do and I’ll let you do what you do. That’s why

I hire engineers, producers, [and] buy the beat. I’m an artist, let me be the voice, you

know? I don’t have all this time to learn something like how to be an engineer. What all

those buttons and knobs do anyway? It’s just easier if I do what I do.

ECONOMIC CAPITAL

Economic capital consists of financial resources such as wealth, income, investments, and access to credit (Bourdieu 1986). The forms that economic capital can take include wages or salary, material possessions, and other assets that have monetary value. The theme of economic capital consists of two sub-themes: (a) financing the hip-hop career, and (b) getting paid.

Financing the hip-hop career consists of the ways that cultural producers strategize and expend economic resources. The theme of getting paid describes how hip-hop cultural producers realize financial rewards in their career.

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Financing the Hip-Hop Career

The sub-theme of financing the hip-hop career describes the strategies and methods by which hip-hop cultural producers use to marshal economic capital to fund their career. As an artistic career, hip-hop requires more than social networks and knowledge for the practitioner to be successful—it also requires economic capital. The financial burdens associated with creating hip-hop include studio or recording equipment, purchasing music, promotion, and other costs.

William illustrates the expenses associated with hip-hop cultural production: “See, studio time costs money, buying beats costs money. If you really want to try to promote yourself, that's money, too. If you want someone famous to come spit a verse [record on a song] that's like, two- thousand dollars.” Miles also notes the economic costs of pursuing a career as a hip-hop cultural producer: “…if you want to be a player you got to play, and it's pay to play in this game.”

Similarly, Arthur states that: “…there ain’t nothing for free, not even in the rap game.”

The potential list of expenses for financing a career in hip-hop cultural production is vast.

Christian explains how: “…it costs me forty or fifty [dollars] an hour to get up to the studio… most beats, if they good, are fifty to a hundred [dollars]” and “…printing CD’s gets to be a thousand bucks not even including the artwork… which is going to be a few hundred unless you hire someone half-ass…” When asked to estimate the total cost for his last album, Christian said:

“four or five thousand dollars” because “he ended up recording way too many fucking songs.”

Regarding the cost of studio time, William observes that there is no guarantee that money spent in the recording studio will be productive:

Time is money, like I said... and I ain't got time to learn at fifty dollars an hour in the

[vocal] booth. Ain't got the money for that. So I have it down before. I practice it before.

Just get in there and boom, boom... just take it down.

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Furthermore, there are additional costs for status-conscious artists that want to present a fashionable image. Lawrence describes the importance of looking the part of a hip-hop artist, suggesting: “If you’re gonna’ be in the public eye, you know, like on stage—or even backstage—you have to be properly equipped [dressed]… with the right fashion. You have to look like an artist if you want the people to treat you like one.” Andre also thinks that the look is important. He: “…won’t be caught dead wearing the same gear [clothes] on stage...” and he

“…buys a new outfit for each show” an outfit that he “…only wears once.”

Hip-hop cultural production is a financial burden even for artists who choose to work in their own recording spaces. Sonny explains that Robert and he have: “…spent at least four or five thousand dollars putting together the studio over the years.” Robert confirms that they have spent a fair amount of money on their home recording setup, stating that: “Once the kids came,

Denise [his wife] really put her foot down… and said I need to make-do with all the shit we already have.” Rich, who has built his own studio over the last decade, states that: “…a lot of the money I make selling beats goes right back into the studio.” Orlando, who earns his living as a music producer and engineer, bemoans the seemingly never-ending cost of building his studio:

“…trying to stay cutting-edge, to stay on top of your game is hard. There’s always something new and customers don’t want to be working at a studio that is, like, five years behind the times.”

The costs facing hip-hop artists can be viewed as a career investment. Nate describes his commitment to his hip-hop career, stating: “This rap game is the profession I chose to do” a profession requiring: “…a lot of sacrifices: personal, money, time, commitment—grinding out blood, sweat, and tears.” De’Ante states that: “Entertainment, it’s what I do whether it’s rap or

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comedy or whatever. All this work will eventually pay off.” Similarly, Andre notes: “I’m an ex- con—who gonna’ hire me? There’s no job or shit for me, you know? The rap game is the only chance for a thug like me.” Andre continues, observing that his goal is to: “…get that money” and “the best way to get that money” is to “…be a player in the rap game… no matter what the

[personal and financial] cost.”

For Daniel, hip-hop is: “…my chance to make it. Make some cash, to get paid, you know? Honestly, this sounds bad, but hip-hop to me means not having to have a job. It’s work, but not a job… you see the difference?” Daniel continues that since: “…I’m an ex-felon…

There’s no college or good jobs” and he therefore feels that hip-hop is the only thing that will

“…give me a shot.”

Viewing the cost of financing a hip-hop career as akin to funding a formal education for other professions, William explains that:

I mean, motherfuckers spend all kind of money to go to college. In hip-hop, paying for

that studio time you get an education, like I was saying. I see it as a down payment. If

someone wants to be a lawyer they gotta’ go to school, gotta’ go forever, and that's going

to be expensive—however much money that costs. In hip-hop it's the same deal but

instead of giving to a college, you're giving to the studio, giving [money] to the radio

station to promote [your music].

Due to the number of costs associated with financing a hip-hop career there is a need for access to economic capital on a regular basis. Eight participants reported that their hip-hop career finances itself; in other words, they are able to make a living in hip-hop and meet their financial obligations through their work in cultural production. Rich describes music producing and

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making beats as being “my profession, my bread and butter” since his reputation is “…about

[music] production.” James, who worked for two years at Guitar Center as a salesperson, stated that he: “Made a lot of contacts at Guitar Center” and this situation: “…let me get the name out, let people know I was offering [recording] services” until he was able to “…go off on my own” with his hip-hop career.

Regarding his career as a hip-hop producer, Orlando states how it was: “…the best feeling when I quit my stupid day job.” He acknowledges he might: “…make more money if I, you know, had a [college] degree and worked in an office type of place” but he “…considers it a major victory to do this [hip-hop] for a living.” In a similar vein, Braxton describes satisfaction with his hip-hop career, despite occasionally struggling with money:

Well, I may not get rich from hip-hop but at least I’m doing it full time, you know.

Fortunes come and fortunes go. I mean, sometimes I have too much business and

sometimes no business, you just never know. But I’m eternally grateful I had this chance

to live my dream even if it don’t pay.

Two participants reported receiving financial assistance in their hip-hop career from their family. One participant, whose parent was a business owner and financially wealthy, had his career initially funded by mother. As Lawrence describes: “…my mom …was the first person to put money behind me and said 'he has it.' You know, my mom has always been a big help for my success.” Lawrence elaborates further:

My mom was like my manager, she would be, like, knocking on doors for me, basically.

It was her idea to start organizing shows, doing all the booking, paying for the radio ads

and putting me on the bill with established artists like TLC. We did a show with the

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Cleveland City Crookz, Bloodshot, people like that. The money she made we put right

back into what I was doing so I could work at better studios or get more [advertising] air

time.

James also received financing from his parents early in his career, prior to becoming successful enough as a beat writer to make it on his own. James recalls that his parents:

“…helped me so far as I’ve need money for this and that, for these CD’s to be printed and stuff like that.” However, James’ parents stopped offering him assistance because: “…they [his parents] just see it as a money pit.” However, James describes how he: “…stuck it out for a few more years, working shitty jobs until I got enough of a rep [reputation] to do it [hip-hop production] all the time.”

Most participants could not finance their hip-hop cultural production by drawing on any savings from a prior career, and were not fortunate enough to receive assistance from their family. Instead, these participants financed their hip-hop career on their own as they went.

Eighteen participants reported that they supported their cultural production themselves. Lester, characterizing his cultural production career as affordable, explains that: “…hip-hop is cheap if you have your own studio and can do it yourself. So, for me, there’s not so much to finance.”

Nate contends, however, the cost of financing a hip-hop career is affordable, observing that: “I thought it would cost like a million dollars [to create hip-hop]. Well, not really [that expensive], but I thought it would be a lot more expensive to hire pros to, you know, work with you.” He suggests that: “It is relatively affordable if you know where to go and what you want to do.”

Arthur, who works in the transportation industry, explains how he pays for his hip-hop career by: “…working, just putting my own money on it,” explaining that he manages the costs

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by: “…only paying for what I can’t do, like recording vocals or mastering and those things.”

Christian, who earns some income as a producer, but has a day job working as an electrician, relates a similar experience. Christian explains that he: “…take[s] the money from producing… to buy whatever [musical equipment] I need around the studio,” while money from his regular paycheck is used “…to pay the bills.” Daniel, who works in the restaurant industry, reports that:

“All my spare cash goes into this [hip-hop],” explaining that: “…this rap game is the most important thing I got going on.”

A number of participants reported, however, that they moderated the cost of hip-hop cultural production by making and saving money from a non-cultural production career, potentially slowing down their career trajectory. Max describes creating his music: “…piece by piece. I save up and work on my material until I feel like I’m ready to go to the studio. I save up money, you know. Studio time is expensive, but not that expensive. I hit the studio a few times a year, putting things together. I try to do at least five to six tracks a year or so.” Daniel relates how he receives pressure from his partner to spend less money on hip-hop beats: “Yeah, my girl will get on me. [She] says I have a problem. [laughs] I need to slow down, get this album out, soon.” Continuing, Daniel says: “I just spend what I can. This album would already be done if I could have just paid for it all at once. I do things bit by bit. A few hours here, a beat here.”

William, too, exercises financial caution with his career, a constraint that he finds regrettable:

…how I get the money? You know, work. Save. Set some money aside for when I'm

feenin' [craving] to go to the studio. It ain't no big thing. Hip-hop ain't that expensive.

You know, right now it's kind of tight, I got lots of ideas, but I ain't got the ends

[finances] to get in there do to the means.

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Due to the cost of financing a hip-hop career, five participants reported that they resorted to illegal activities to fund their musical endeavors. For example, Daniel stated that he has:

“…traded chronic [marijuana], sold chronic, for studio time, you know. Whatever it takes.

Everybody’s buying or selling it anyways.” Daniel continues, claiming that he will cease his criminal behavior: “if this album works out, maybe, I dunno, I’ll be in a position where I can leave that [behavior] behind.” Kennan, too, reported that he sells illegal narcotics to help fund his hip-hop career: “…if I need money I go out there and get money” because “…I stayed connected to the street hustle.” Furthermore, Kennan adds that his: “…priority is hip-hop, but those bills don’t pay themselves, so I sell shit [drugs] to get them ends [money].” Miles, displaying a similar attitude, says: “…if I need to hit up the studio I may hustle [sell narcotics] more. I only do that to get what I need. It takes money if you want to make it, if you want to make that money, or get that mix tape, or whatever it is you need to do.” When asked what he did as a

‘hustle,’ Miles said: “You know, sell drugs… mostly weed, but whatever it is that people are paying cash for, I’m selling.” Explicitly explaining his relationship with narcotics sales and his hip-hop career, Andre explains:

I'll sell Molly [MDMA], I'll sell weed [marijuana]. I'll sell whatever. Make money on the

street. Take that money. [I will] take that money and then invest it in what I'm building

up. [Then] go to the studio, [and] try to make more money with it [his music]. Just

waiting to blow up [get rich and famous].

Getting Paid

The sub-theme of getting paid describes how hip-hop cultural producers realize economic reward and payment for their artistic efforts. While hip-hop cultural production can be

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expensive, it also carries the possibility to earn material wealth, or as Daniel says: “…to get paid.” Within the sub-theme of getting paid there are two subordinate sub-themes: (1) getting paid as artists, and (2) getting paid as music producers. Getting paid as an artist involves selling albums, giving live performances, or guesting on other artists’ albums for payment. For producers, getting paid follows from selling beats, providing artistic guidance, and record engineering. These roles in hip-hop cultural production are different, but not exclusive. As Sonny explains how these different roles could come together in his career:

I want music to be my job… I’m working on that. Whether it is being out in front as an

MC or working in, in the background as a producer. You gotta’ wear a lot of hats in this

business. Look at Puffy [Sean Combs], or whatever he calls himself, he does both. I can

do both or I can do one or the other.

Getting paid as an artist. For artists, getting paid is often a chief motivation for pursuing hip-hop cultural production. Max explains that his goal is to monetize his life experiences through music: “You know, I try to make bank [earn money] on that side of who I am [his experiences]. After that, you just stick to that script, change it up to keep it fresh, and keep pressing [working].” Quinten describes how the lure of fame and fortune strongly influenced his desire to become a hip-hop cultural producer, since: “…so few big rappers nowadays are really that good. All that mumble rap is bullshit. I’m already better than they do...” so it is just “…a matter of time until I blow up [become famous].” Echoing Quinten’s observation, Daniel estimates his chances of being successful at hip-hop as being “…good” because he considers there is a low standard of quality among popular hip-hop artists. As he explains: “It’s the attitude. If you have the attitude you can say anything. I mean, look at Lil

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Yachty’s keeping condoms in his sock with a mouth full of rocks. Stupid, right? Still, it hit and

Yachty got paid.” Tayvon, who was formerly signed to a major label record deal in the 1990s and enjoyed monetary success, describes how: “…every n***a gets into rap for the same reason

I did—big dollars,” although the difference between himself and other aspirational hip-hop artists is that he “…made it.”

Andre, who was recently released after serving a prison sentence, openly shared his belief that he can achieve greater economic success in hip-hop cultural production by capitalizing on his life story:

If you want to be the real big G [gangster], you gotta be a mogul. Got to get that money

and the best way to get that money, the big money, the big cash, [is] you gotta’ be a

player in the rap game. You might as well make money on who you were born to be. See

what I'm saying? You feel me? As soon as I got out [of prison], I couldn't wait [to start a

hip-hop career].

When Andre was asked how much money he has earned in his hip-hop career so far, he indicated that he has actually spent more on his career than what he has earned, stating: “Well, not much

[money] right now. Not a whole bunch, I mean I put more [money] into it than I get out.”

For artists, the prospect of earning less money than they invest into their hip-hop career is common, as thirteen participants indicated. William admits that he has: “…certainly put more into hip-hop. So, no I haven't really made much of any kind of money [in hip-hop], but I don’t really care.” Regarding the failure to realize a profit from his hip-hop career, Kennan, who is currently unemployed, admits that: “If it wasn’t for my lady [girlfriend], who works… as a nurse, I wouldn’t be able to live” because “…I’m lucky if I make fifty bucks a show.” Victor,

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bemoaning his lack of online music sales, describes how he is: “…frustrated that every motherfucker wants me to give them my CD’s, like they ain’t cost me a ton to get them printed.

They never think of that.” Furthermore, Victor says that he has: “…lost more money than I will probably ever make in this game.” Hip-hop MC Christian explains that: “I ain’t made shit from this,” and that money leftover from his day job at a bookstore “…ends up going into new gear

[or] studio time.” Xavier, a 27 year-old MC from Cleveland, indicated that he: “…doesn’t make money [doing hip-hop] yet. Who knows what tomorrow might bring?” and that he could

“…break at any time, make it big and be rollin’ in loot [money].”

On the other hand, Braxton, a Cincinnati MC, suggests that he: “…never got into this

[hip-hop] for money, I do it for the love [of music].” But he acknowledges that “if I got rich doing it, that would be the absolute best.” Lester, who earns part of his living as a hip-hop producer, notes that his music: “Hasn’t made shit [any money]. And I’m guessing it never will…

I just gave up on that and focus on where I do make ends [money through producing].”

Echoing this sentiment, Alex describes his lack of financial success as a hip-hop cultural producer, stating:

Well honestly, I haven't made any money. You got to put some money in the product

first. You know, how do people get the name out there and like I said, you know. It only

takes like two, three, maybe four hours to do a track at the studio. So I don't know, it

might cost me four [or] five hundred dollars to do a track. So, you know, I haven't made a

lot of money in hip-hop, but I haven't spent too much money either. I mean, it's not too

bad. Do what you know until you pop [become famous] and then get the money.

[However], it's just going to be all rainy days until then.

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Robert, who had worked as a part-time DJ for a number of years, explains that working with Sonny creating hip-hop has not earned him a lot of money:

…in hip-hop, [is] not so much. I’ve made money DJ’ing hip-hop clubs and that [pauses]

made some decent money over the years doing that on weekends. As far as our music we

haven’t made anything yet. Maybe we never will. But DJ’ing has made me some money.

I was doing the occasional wedding party up until a few years ago [but stopped] because I

just got, you know, tired of the crowds, the fighting relatives, having to play the same old

tracks night after night.

When asked how serious he was about making money in hip-hop, Robert elaborated that he was:

…not as serious about trying to ‘make it’ as Sonny is. I mean, I’m a lot older than him,

married. I have a full time job, you know—that has to take priority. Music is kind of fun

for me, it gives me something to do and look forward to. I mean, if I could make a living

off of being a [hip-hop] DJ and still have the same, uh, quality of life and all that [pauses]

the same stability of a regular paycheck that would be great. But, it’s too risky [and] I

don’t see it happening.

There is the potential, though, for hip-hop artists to earn money and get paid, as reported by three participants. Rhyland describes that he used to make: “…one thousand dollars a show and play to a few hundred people” as an opener for a national hip-hop concert tour in 2009.

Rhyland, however, “…never got that record deal… It was only for one tour that lasted a couple of months.”

Tayvon explained that he earned: “…about a half million dollars a year” when he was a

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signed recording artist in the 1990s. Furthermore, Tayvon has appeared as a guest on local hip- hop artists’ songs, noting that: “I’ll drop lines [rap] on anybody’s record that isn’t garbage, and

[who] will pay me for my time.” When asked how much he charges to guest on a track, Tayvon says that he charges: “…anywhere from two-hundred to four-hundred dollars for a verse. This all depends if they’re a friend or not” and he also “won’t travel unless they paying [for expenses].”

Success in hip-hop can also result in getting paid in different, but related, professions, as

Lawrence suggests of his transition from hip-hop artist to becoming a film and television actor:

I was doing music and it open[ed] up doors for me for acting, and acting for me was

more. Actually, I think more than acting because it's so much a broader atmosphere. You

don't just have rappers there—you have producers, actors, actresses, agents. There's so

many people behind the scenes. Where in studios, or if you're opening up for an artist,

you got all those rappers there all trying to get a record deal, [and] maybe the artist is

going to come. But you don't have this diverse people like on a movie set. You have

actors not even in the movie showing up. You network and that's what it is all about. I

was able to network with some of the celebrities back there with us. I was able to talk to

them, hang out, [and] eat with them.

Getting paid as a producer. In addition to getting paid for artistry, hip-hop cultural producers may also receive income from producing. Hip-hop producing consists of a number of intermediary tasks such as audio engineering, composing beats for other artists, or providing advice and guidance to artists. Eight participants describe earning the majority of their income through work as a hip-hop producer. Having a hip-hop career based on producing involves many tasks, as Curtis explains:

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Well, I see a producer’s job as bringing things together—people, talent, whatever. I see

myself as a sounding board, helping the artist stay true to their vision and also ending up

with something that, you know, is good enough to sell. You know, it’s got to end up

being commercial at the end. Like I said, it’s the music business—you want to have

something that sells at the end of it. So, yeah, a good producer can make it all come

together, make sure that work is getting done, and making sure that it is quality at the

end, you know, when it’s all done it helps to serve everyone’s interests. I mean, the artist

wants their product to sell, you know what I mean? I’d see the label’s interests because

they want it to sell too. The engineers and all that want to make money too, to have us

come back, so it’s in their interest that it sells as well.

The opportunity to produce hip-hop full time represents a major career shift for cultural producers. As Darrel explains: “Just being able to do this [hip-hop] and get my bills paid was a milestone. I thank God everyday for this chance.” Additionally, Darrel recalled the: “…total joy to quitting the grocery” when he transitioned to hip-hop production. He also expressed that he was: “just thankful everyday that I'm able to do what I love.” The transition to producing hip-hop occupationally took more than a decade. As Darrel continues:

I rap and produce to pay my bills, been working for myself this whole last year. I started

out banging beats out about ten to twelve years ago. I went from there to just writing

beats for my friends and then charging money to friends-of-friends. It just grew from

there.

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The transition into producing as a means of getting paid is often gradual. Rich states that he: “…started when I was just a kid, really. I just wanted to write some music for myself because, you know, that’s what I thought all the big stars did. Only later did I find out that I could sell it [music] and make a living.” Trey, who supports himself from producing and promoting hip-hop, said that his career: “…all started as a dream when I was a teen, just something I wanted to do but I didn’t know how to do it.” After graduating high school, when considering a path in college, Trey recalled:

I figured if I was going to have to go to school I might as well, you know, study things

that I found interesting. So I signed up for some classes at Owens [Community College].

One of the classes was on recording and electronic music. That’s what really got me

going.

James, a self-taught hip-hop composer, describes the events that led him to become a hip- hop cultural producer: “Early on I wanted to be a rapper, so I wanted to learn the production-side of things, engineering and producing as well as how to write a good ass beat.” This process,

James explains, began when he was a teenager:

I’d say [I was] sixteen when I started, and doors started kinda’ opened up. That was the

heyday of the software when all the hacked stuff was coming out and just becoming

available to the public. That’s when the epiphany came about: where you didn’t have to

have a million dollars to make a million dollars—you could get it all for free.

Once James began producing and beat writing, however, he found out that he: “…really liked making beats a lot more than trying to be a rapper myself” and that “…it might take years to

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make any money as a rapper but I could, right here and now, make money writing beats.” For

James, this process: “…started small, but as soon as I started writing more beats and putting them online for sale… some money started rolling in.” James estimates that it took him: “about a year or two” for him to: “make a living in this [hip-hop] game.”

The path to becoming a producer was not always straightforward for Orlando either.

Orlando, a self-taught hip-hop composer and producer, describes how he initially wanted to be an artist, but switched to producing: “Basically I had guys locally that wanted to rap and I found out about the [digital audio workstation] software so I could make music and record [them].”

Explaining why he chose to work as a producer, Orlando recalled that: “People started telling me

‘you suck as a rapper,’ but people wanted to buy my beats, so I went with what was paying me.”

Arthur relates a similar story:

Yeah, at first I wanted to be a rapper myself. The only reason I wanted to make beats was

so I had something to rap on. Now I was okay as a rapper, better than a lot of these fools

out now… anyways, I found out my real love was the production side of things. Working

with other people, writing beats for them. After a while, my own raps started to fade in

the background.

Explaining how his career plans have changed, Arthur outlines his strategy to get paid in hip- hop:

My plan was to be more of a producer first, rapper second. It’s like this—I figure that

there’s only one of me and one chance to get a record deal or get famous, whatever.

But… if I work with dozens of people, that’s dozens of chances, see what I mean? So, I

work with other rappers, doing they beats—if one of them get big I just follow along with

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them. I figured after having a few projects come along like that I could branch out on my

own, make my own moves.

Producing is a flexible career to choose, one that potentially allows a hip-hop cultural producer the ability to make additional money supporting their artistic career. Three participants described how they work part-time as a producer. Tayvon describes how he earns additional income: “Nowadays, most of my money comes from booking shows and comedy acts. But I sometimes do gigs [live shows] as well as beat writing, producing, or charging guys to use my home studio.” Similarly, Lester supplements his hip-hop career as an artist with producing, explaining:

I produce some other artists too, sometimes to get paid, sometimes just because I like

working with them. So I make some money producing at home for people. Yeah, I do it

now and again. It’s not a steady thing. I did some of [regional hip-hop artist’s] stuff. They

are starting to get rolling a bit more now. There’s been some talks of collabs

[collaborations] and all that. Most of the people I help are just starting out, you know.

Spread the knowledge, show people how to get started the right way… I help you out,

maybe one day you help me out—you never know where someone may be three years or

five years from now. It’s all about spreading that love, throwing it out there and hoping it

comes back.

Arthur, too, has attempted to balance producing and artistry in his hip-hop career, observing that:

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[Producing] hip-hop was kind of a job there for a while... You know, just making beats,

selling beats, working with people, doing those types of things. So hip-hop kinda

financed itself for me. Oh yeah, for a while I didn’t have to work except on beats. I guess

you could say that hip-hop paid for itself for me. I came out a little bit ahead. Now, I

wasn’t going to get rich but it pay my bills for, you know, a couple of years.

The path to a career in hip-hop cultural production largely depends on business sense.

Rich describes that the key to becoming a producer is: “…to never work for free—always charge something for your time because that’s what makes your service real in people’s eyes.”

Furthermore, Rich stresses that it is important to establish a reputation:

[Through] word of mouth, mainly. People talk to other people. Word gets around. You

put up quality [music] on the Internet… [because] people are looking for beats and if they

like what you got they’ll buy more. But yeah, you develop kind of a following based on

how people like your stuff, who you work with. You know, if people are made happy by

what you do, they talk. If you do something people like they’ll figure out who made the

track and hit you up, give you a call. I find that doing quality work is the best way to

promote yourself. That and keeping busy, doing it every day. Putting it out there. That is

promotion money can’t buy.

The career of a hip-hop producer is potentially fraught with difficulties, as James explains: “I like to work with artists that have jobs, that actually have money to do something.”

Sonny, who occasionally produces to supplement his career as a hip-hop artist, agrees that producers often struggles with clients, saying he prefers to work with people who: “just show up

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on time and don’t be cute with the money. I mean, I don’t charge a lot of money, but people… people can be funny about money. Always trying to cheat you.” To handle the problem of artistic clients potentially cheating him or “coming up short,” Tayvon says that he: “…will only produce someone that has money up-front; I want that money in my hand before I’ll lift a finger.” He is in a position to do this since he is: “…known. I have a reputation” from when he was a signed artist. Rich avoids the problems of non-payment with: “a PayPal site that clients use to book time in the studio,” although Rich also admitted that: “A lot of my clients don’t have credit cards” so he often will “make exceptions” for them.

Lastly, some cultural producers struggle with balancing their dual roles as artist and producer. Orlando states: “…I wanted to be on the stage, you know, being the artist, the focus of things” which is something that he “misses quite a bit.” Orlando, however, notes that, at least for him, “…rhymes aren’t going to pay the bills.” In a similar fashion, James stated that he would like to: “…give MC’ing another shot” because he gets “…tired of working on everyone else’s shit.” In a similar position, Arthur has returned to focusing on his own artistic career after spending the last few years only producing other hip-hop artists: “I got tired of working for, you know, working for other people. I mean, I got paid but after a while you start wondering where your art is at. Feel me? So I started working my stuff in there.”

SUBCULTURAL CAPITAL

In addition to social, cultural, and economic capital, participants also displayed subcultural capital as it relates to hip-hop cultural production. Subcultural capital is defined as resources and dispositions related to a specific subculture (Thornton 1995). As a product of

African American subculture, hip-hop draws from the unique capital of black subculture. There were three sub-themes identified within the theme of subcultural capital: (a) the voice of the

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streets, (b) managing the brand, and (c) presenting an authentic style. The voice of the streets examines the way that hip-hop cultural producers navigate the lived experiences of African

Americans and resist structural racism. Managing the brand describes how hip-hop cultural producers manage and present their artistic image. Lastly, an authentic style explores the tension between representing truth and presenting a larger-than-life fictionalization as part of a career in cultural production.

The Voice of the Streets

The sub-theme of the voice of the streets describes how hip-hop artists utilize their lived experiences as African Americans to inform their cultural production. Thirteen participants discussed hip-hop in a manner that suggests it is the voice of the streets. Regarding its origins,

William claims that: “hip-hop was born on the streets.” Miles illustrates the link between hip-hop and the culture of the streets, explaining: “It's like this—the streets are hip-hop and hip-hop is the streets. But hip-hop can teach you the streets.” Also relevant to this sub-theme, Miles seems to understand that street culture and black culture are tied together: “I say it's the streets because, you know, in America, black people don't have no home. That's the street, that's your real home.”

Miles further explores this link, indicating the purpose of hip-hop is to articulate the lived experiences of African Americans’ life on the streets in a fashion that can be disseminated to the larger world outside of the black community:

Hip-hop is just the latest way to express what the black community has been saying

forever. It's a street consciousness. It tells stories about what is really going on, what

white America doesn't want to hear but we make them listen anyways because it's not just

words, it's music too. That's the power of hip-hop, why it won't die.

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The association between hip-hop and the streets is therefore a common theme among the participants. Andre argues that: “Rapping is just an extension of the street. If you want to be good at rapping you gotta’ be good at the street. Just grind that shit, hustle, and do it.” Rich observes that: “Hip-hop just has a particular street swagger that is its own thing.“ Similarly,

William states that: “Hip-hop was born on streets.” Andre also expresses that: “Rapping is just an extension of the street.” William further explains that:

Hip-hop is the back alleys. It's the American, you know, nightmare—not the American

Dream. It's the American nightmare, like what Malcolm [X] said. We just put it to a beat

and try to sell it back. Just trying to get ours back. So [that] people know you are there.

Regarding the historical evolution of hip-hop music and its relationship to the street,

Miles states that: “Hip-hop comes from a lot of places” and that it is “a game—some of the rules come from the streets, some come from other places like the church.” Miles argues that “Black music… comes from all over” and that “hip-hop is just like the end of that, all the black music coming together—R&B, church music, blues, gospel, you name it. It just all came together.”

Trey also explains the evolution of hip-hop with reference to the street:

In the early days anything that was rap was… new, it was already a statement in and of

itself so it got attention. Later on that got boring so, bam, gangsta rap comes along with

really extreme lyrics and stuff—telling crime rhymes and street stories. But then that isn’t

enough so before you know it you have bling rap, kind of a Scarface [the Brian DePalma

film] rags-to-riches street story.

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Four participants noted the importance of hip-hop staying ‘close’ to the street. Andre states that he prefers to work in ‘street’ studios that are located in black communities:

I don't go to these bigger studios. [pauses] Real rap is made in the ‘hood. Look at

N.W.A.—they keep it real and keep it in the ‘hood. There ain't no gangster shit

happening in the suburbs. I got a couple of places that I go to. Guys that got stuff in spare

rooms, guys got stuff in basements, back rooms—a real hip-hop studio.

Further commenting on the importance of the streets to hip-hop, Andre continued: “You can't get no education there [college]. You get your [hip-hop] education from the streets.”

Relating a similar preference, Daniel works with ‘street producers,’ smaller, more specialized outfits, and avoid larger, professional studios that may not be as familiar with producing hip-hop music:

I work with some engineers at different studios. When I first went to a studio… they

were, well, let’s just say they aren’t really into urban music. I thought going to the

expensive studio was the smart move, but it wasn’t. I learned a lesson there. Now I work

with street producers, people close to the street that know about what real hip-hop is

about. Just because a studio is fancy don’t mean shit, really. It comes down to the

engineer having heart and knowing what rap is about. I only work with studios that only

are doing rap, at this point.

Regarding the streets, Lester explains how his criminal involvement and lived experiences in a high crime community informed his cultural production as a hip-hop artist:

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You know, it’s just the streets. There are two sides, two ways to go on the streets—you

can take what you learn on ‘em and be a man… or you can follow what everyone else is

doing, gang-banging, getting into shit, just acting wild, getting locked up. The streets,

they be twistin’ [confusing] some n***as up. Or you can be like I did and learn from it.

See what happens to people and say ‘shit, I don’t want that to happen to me.’ Like I was

sayin’, if you’re about your business you get that respect. Nobody respects loud, hard-ass

playin’ n***as.

Managing the Brand

The sub-theme of managing the brand describes how hip-hop cultural producers regulate their artistic identity. The need to manage one’s artistic identity, typically called a brand by the participants, is another sub-theme within the theme of subcultural capital. Seven participants recognized that it is important to manage their identity in their artistic career as a hip-hop cultural producer. The concern to manage an artistic identity is explained by Andre, who takes his life experience and: “Invest[s] it in my brand. Basically take that whole life, they say like… Do like they say... monetize it. Monetize that whole life. Get it out there. If it's real people will feel it, get the head bobbin'.” William, too, indicates that his strategy as an artist is to: “…move [sell] some stuff, push my brand, push my career and then I get paid.” William further stressed that his unique brand creates demand for his artistic career, since: “I bring what I bring. There's nothing you can buy that can do what I do, you know? My skill. You know, my perspective, my flavor that I put on it. That's what I do.”

Promotion, drawing awareness to an artistic career, is part of brand management. Trey explains that the trick to establishing a brand identity is to: “…constantly be in everyone’s face.

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You know, leverage that social media… always have something new, try to establish a base of fans and, like, engage them.” Furthermore, Trey observes that it is important to be:

“entertaining,” and to: “make sure to post things on my Facebook page a few times a day, whether I’m talking about something in, like the news, commenting on what’s going on in the rap world, maybe giving props to some of the rappers I like, whatever it takes. Just try to keep their attention, make sure they don’t forget you exist and shit.”

Lester describes that his strategy for managing his brand identity has evolved over the years:

Well, in the past I’d play shows. I know a few local DJ’s that spin at the clubs. I’ll have

them play a few [of my] songs some nights. I used to put flyers out at places like Square

Records, used to flyer cars at local shows but I don’t do that anymore, big waste of time.

Most of your buzz, most of your brand, spreads by word of mouth or on social media. Of

course, every other rapper is on social media so, yeah, you gotta’ have something else on

top of that. Always be promoting. People have to know who you are and what you are

about.

Quinten, who promotes and books artists, explains it is “absolutely essential” to create and foster a brand identity as part of a career in hip-hop cultural production. According to

Quinten, it is: “a big fucking priority for anyone that wants to make it. [Artists have] to establish who you are and promote, promote, promote.” Lawrence, who found success in hip-hop and then transitioned into an acting career, says that he consciously developed a brand identity by wearing: “…faddish clothes” and “grooming himself” because “if you want to be treated like a star you have to look like a star.” Kennan, a struggling MC, observes that the difference between

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a “…superstar and a nobody” is that “everybody knows who the superstar is, but nobody knows a nobody.”

Trey similarly relates that for modern hip-hop artists: “[Getting] attention is the name of the game now.” Trey continues, explaining why he has created a unique image as part of his brand identity:

People may not remember my lyrics or songs, but when I do a show they’ll remember my

hair. ‘Who ‘dat n***a with the rainbow dreads?’ It’s kind of like my trademark or

something. I’m the only one playing that look like this and you can’t miss me live, that’s

why I went with a really crazy colors. I want to put some, I dunno’, colored lights up in

there too, maybe. [laughs] I dunno’, I just got some crazy ass ideas… But the moral of

the story is that if you want people to listen to your work you have to get their attention.

Another aspect of establishing a brand identity is establishing a close association with

‘the street’ or having a reputation. Five participants indicated that having a reputation associated with criminal behavior, having served time in prison, or other traditionally stigmatizing statuses can positively impact a hip-hop cultural producer’s image. Nate, who has served time in prison, states that his incarceration: “…gave me cred [credibility] that money can’t buy” in “…the hip- hop game.” Tayvon, who also was incarcerated for felony drug trafficking offenses, said that:

“…it’s stupid, but it helps [to have a criminal background] if you’re doing shit like gangsta rap.”

Quinten agrees that: “My rep [reputation] as a G [gangster] has opened doors [in his hip-hop career]” such as “…being taken seriously in this [hip-hop].”

Andre also shares the belief that a criminal reputation is a valuable asset for a hip-hop artist:

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The rep [reputation] you have in the [hip-hop] game, is the rep you have in the street

game. It's all the same. Why do you think all those n***as be makin' millions of dollars

and still getting locked up? Because you can't be singing about the thug life and not be a

thug. Look at Ice Cube now, he's got mansion out in the suburbs, that guy never was a

thug. Pretended to be a thug, he got found out. Now what? He's in some Freaky Friday

shit? Just a movie star. Never a thug, never a thug. But you look at someone like Eazy-E,

he lived the life, rep'd [represented] the life, died related to the life. Look at Tupac, there

you go. You want respect, you gotta make them respect you. You gotta be hard.

Andre continues, arguing that, at least for gangsta rap, having a criminal background is a central part of being a hip-hop artist: “Like I said, you got to live the life. You go up there trying to say gangster shit and you've never been knee-deep in anything? Never been in some shit? Never been locked up? Nothing?” Andre notes that, for artists without a criminal reputation, it is obvious because: “People can tell.” Continuing, Andre declares that if: “You want to do gangster rap you gotta’ be a gangster, end of story.”

The extent to which having a criminal reputation benefits a career as a hip-hop producer is, in Daniel’s opinion, limited. He notes that his felony conviction: “…gives me cred

[credibility], for sure. But having a rep on the street means shit unless you got the hooks [catchy songs] to back it up.” Daniel notes that it takes more than having a criminal reputation to succeed in hip-hop: “I mean, if the only thing you needed was to be a gangsta, then nobody would be a gangsta [because] there’s more money in the hip-hop game than slangin’ [being a gangsta], a lot

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more.2” Furthermore, Daniel explains that having a criminal record is common among the people he associates with: “I mean, everyone I know has been locked up for something. [pauses] So it takes more than that [having a criminal record].” When asked if his criminal reputation has assisted him in hip-hop, Daniel muses that: “I don’t know if it’s helping me now, [because I am] just starting out. Maybe it’ll help more later, you know, once I get more popular… it seems to give people something to write about. But no, having a record is kind of just the norm in the circles I run in.” Regarding the limitation of having a hip-hop career boosted by a criminal past,

Daniel continues:

Being black and having a record ain’t no thing… What I did [his criminal offense] was

nothing, really. I know folks that were up to way more felonious shit than I ever got into.

It can be good press, they [the media] sure seem to like writing about it—that and getting

shot like 50 [50Cent]. Depends what you rap about, though. If your songs are all about a

bunch of thug shit, fuck, you better have something in the past that gives you cred

[credibility], otherwise… [laughs] So, yeah, it can be a factor if you’re trying to rep a G

[gangsta] or later on it will, it will give the media something to talk about you for. I’m

thinking of 50Cent again, or that Snoop used to deal, that kind of shit.

Cultivating a brand identity can even involve creating a more marketable image based on an aspect of an artist’s personality, perhaps boosting their chances for financial success. Max explains how he emphasizes aspects of his personality as part of his public image and brand strategy:

2 In other words, if success in hip-hop is automatically achieved through criminal actions, individuals would: (1) establish a ‘gangsta’ reputation, so that they could, (2) become successful hip-hop stars who legitimately earn more money through entertainment than they did through street crime.

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If you can sell your image, then you have a shot at doing something big, move on to

bigger things, you know? So yeah, there’s me when I’m just Max, and then there’s Max

CEO. It’s like the whole Eminem and Slim Shady thing, the good and the bad, the yin

and the yang. Sometimes I’m just Max, but then there’s this other side of me that is a

take-no-prisoners, hard ass, get money, get-that-ass Max CEO side of my personality.

An Authentic Style

The sub-theme of an authentic style describes the role of honesty and integrity in hip-hop cultural production. Authenticity, involving honest and real artistic presentation, is an important value of hip-hop. However, hip-hop as an artistic form focuses on self-expression, which can be varied and individualistic. As Daniel states: “Hip-hop can mean about anything you want it to.

There’s not just one hip-hop—there are many sides. You have to make it for you, make it your own.” Echoing Daniel’s sentiment, Nate explains his perspective that: “To me, hip-hop is just putting your own swag on things. Making it your own, putting yourself out there.” Rich, too, believes that the purpose of hip-hop is: “…about expressing yourself, getting things out there, making a statement, you know?” William says that hip-hop values: “Realness” and “just being yourself”; your art has “gotta’ be your message, your style” and “you've got to put your spin on it.” Miles also observes that hip-hop can take many unique forms, stating that: “…there's no one

[single] way to be a rapper.” Describing the different approaches to hip-hop, Miles continues:

You know, you got people that mumble rap, that's fine, [because] that sell[s]. You got

people that be dropping consciousness. You got people singing about money and hoes, or

the bling-bling thing, and that's fine. I think the ideal quality is to be yourself. Be

different. Be real. Keep it real. You [have] got to make it your own thing.

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Arthur suggests that hip-hop values provide artistic authenticity due to its origins and historical development:

To me it’s the freedom to create. Compared to other types of music you don’t really need

a bunch of stuff to make hip-hop. Heck, you can do it all on your own if you want. The

original hip-hop was just some records and a mic. You know, a lot of black people don’t

have a lot of money so we just did what we always do and make something from nothing.

Like the original blues was just a dude with a guitar singing about his life. That’s hip-hop

right there. So yeah, to me hip-hop is freedom. Or a ticket to freedom. It’s like the

electronic blues, just this time you can dance to it, it uses the sounds of now [today].

Authenticity can encompass a broad range of expression, ranging from attempting to represent the ‘real world’ to employing artistic license and illustrating broader themes. Lester explains how remaining true to himself is important as a hip-hop cultural producer, stating: “I’m in it to make it, not fake it.”

Andre, explaining how his music is an extension of his real life experiences with crime and violence, claims this fusion provides veracity to his artistry: “That's how people know it's real, that realness of the street reflects through” because if “…you want to do gangster rap you gotta’ be a gangster, end of story. People can tell the difference.” Andre continues, explaining:

I mean, I'm a gangster, I do gangsta rap, that's it for real. Thug life. That's me. That's me,

that's my life. For me, hip-hop is life. That's what I do. And you know, it's a reflection of

me, you know? I live the gangster life, I do the gangsta music. [pauses] It's all one thing.

There's no kinda’ difference between that. It's all one. It's whole. Just keep being a G

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[gangster]. Spittin' rhymes is just part of that. You gotta’ be real, you know? [You] gotta’

represent, represent who you are.

In contrast to Andre’s description of hip-hop as representing solely criminal experiences,

William explains that hip-hop encompasses a broad range of topics that are important to the

African American community:

Hip-hop is the black experience in America. It's the only time that people will listen to

black folk if there's some music. This is the way to get the message out. The message can

be good or bad. It can be materialistic. It can be spiritual. You know, it can be whatever

you want it to be.

While self-expression was considered important, there is tension between presenting an authentic self and using artistic license to create a more salable, exciting persona. Trey bemoans this tension, because: “It should be about the music, you know? The music is what’s really the most important thing.” However, Trey explains that hip-hop has: “…been about the image for a long time now” and that “nowadays you have to dye your hair orange and shit, get arrested, or whatever to be seen as… I don’t know, real or something.” Jordan conveys a similar attitude, explaining that he: “…misses old-school rappers that seemed way more real than the shit today.”

Sonny, too, expresses his opinion that hip-hop has lost its vital, authentic qualities, complaining that he is: “…just tired of people that are more about the lifestyle or the attitude or the look than any real quality, any real substance.”

While some participants noted the lack of authenticity in hip-hop, others defended or excused its unrealistic artistic content. Miles points out that, in hip-hop: “Not everything is true,

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but it's not all a lie. We rhyme in half-truths, but it may be [pauses] someone else's real truth, the full truth.” Continuing, Miles explains how his approach to crafting an image was influenced by other, more famous, artists, because hip-hop is: “entertainment, it’s make believe, feel me? 'Pac

[2Pac Shakur] said that if you want to rap … you have to trains [sic] yourself to be in character.”

Trey adds that: “nowadays it takes more than just a good song to get people’s attention” which explains why “artists are so extreme nowadays with how they look and act.” Similarly, Andre claims that there is a purpose to: “raw lyrics” since it “draws people in, but it also gives them an education [on the black experience].” Andre claims that hyperbolic hip-hop lyrics focusing on crime and violence are not: “…just about a front” because “there's a bit of truth in that show.”

Regarding this employment of artistic license as part of a hip-hop career, Max also argues that hip-hop is:

…entertainment. You know, we play characters—that’s what we do. Now sometimes

those characters, they’re like, based in the person, you know, it’s a side of them. But you

only see those sides. A smart artist knows what to show, or what to tell, and what not to.

Max continues, explaining the necessity for creating a larger-than-life, entertaining public visage:

It’s image, see what I’m saying? I mean, what I do is grounded in reality, but most of it,

you know, it’s plain fiction. You can’t expect to be yourself and blow up, get famous, and

have millions of people follow you and all that. You gotta’ be larger than life in this biz

[business].

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SUMMARY OF RESULTS

This project qualitatively examined fifty-seven hours of interviews with thirty hip-hop cultural producers. All thirty participants are African American males with an average age of

28.83 years who are currently engaged in hip-hop cultural production. Ten of the participants are employed in hip-hop cultural production as a full time career (transfer group), whereas twenty participants earned all or most of their income in another occupational field (non-transfer group).

On average, the participants had been involved with hip-hop cultural production for 11.93 years, with the mean onset for becoming musically involved in hip-hop at 16.9 years of age.

Statistically significant differences were indicated between the transfer and non-transfer groups, with the transfer group participants having started both musical participation and involvement in hip-hop cultural production at an earlier age. Furthermore, the transfer group participants had significantly more years of involvement with hip-hop cultural production, despite a lack of significant difference between the average ages of the transfer and non-transfer groups.

Each of the four species of capital, investigated as their own theme, was qualitatively examined for its meanings and any identifiable sub-themes related to hip-hop cultural production. In addition, a fifth theme was identified describing the pathways for entering hip-hop cultural production: getting in. This theme covered the process of getting in to hip-hop cultural production. Two sub-themes were identified for getting in: (a) preparation for musical cultural production careers, and (b) taking the step. The sub-theme of preparation describes the process in which informants were directly or indirectly provided with resources, dispositions, and other resources that were acknowledged as contributing to their potential future career in hip-hop cultural production. The influence of family socialization towards achievement, early exposure to arts and music, and adult encouragement were highlighted. The second sub-theme, taking the

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step, explored the decision-making process leading into entering hip-hop cultural production.

Participants revealed that peer encouragement, personal interest, and prior participation in similar cultural production activities were the most influential factors for electing to explore hip- hop cultural production as a potential career choice.

Within the theme of social capital four sub-themes were identified: (a) the role of the family, (b) the influence of mentors, (c) institutions, and (d) connections within the music industry. Of particular thematic note was the intense importance of social capital in the form of family membership and familial social bonds, which facilitated the acquisition of cultural capital specific to the field of hip-hop cultural production. This social path to cultural capital was also realized through mentors, most commonly educators and staff of artistic programs available in the community. Institutions such as educational facilities were important for accessing and acquiring cultural capital. Additionally, institutions such as the church also provided cultural resources related to musical performance and production. Lastly, success at acquiring and utilizing connections within the music industry was described as an elusive, yet essential, accomplishment and resource for building a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Not surprisingly, the theme of cultural capital encompasses foundational resources for hip-hop cultural production. There were three primary sub-themes established for cultural capital: (a) putting in work, (b) learning the craft, and (c) creating the product. First, the sub- theme of putting in work addresses how aspiring artists engaged in arduous and intensive cultivation of performance and technical skill related to hip-hop. In particular, participants described the “grind” of continual effort and innovation as being a key factor for success in hip- hop cultural production. The second sub-theme, learning the craft, indicates the avenues and strategies for learning the craft of hip-hop cultural production, performance, writing lyrics, and

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music composition. The final sub-theme, creating the product, focuses on the process by which hip-hop cultural producers translate their artistic works into commodities. Important sub-themes included mastering studio technology and musical performance, and the decision whether to ‘do- it-yourself’ or employ experienced professionals. Furthermore, it was revealed that the Internet serves a central role in disseminating cultural capital regarding hip-hop cultural production. For hip-hop cultural producers, the Internet is both an instructional forum and a source of pirated or cracked software in which to practice audio recording techniques at no cost.

In addition to social and cultural capital, economic capital was another theme investigated, and was found to encompass two sub-themes: (a) financing the hip-hop career, and

(b) getting paid as a hip-hop cultural producer. Financing the career identifies the techniques employed to cut costs and finance a hip-hop career. The techniques included learning the cultural production skills, supplementing one’s career with income earned from an occupation other than hip-hop, earning a living as a hip-hop cultural producer—typically through the role of audio engineer and producer working with other artists—and engaging in criminal activities to fund the start up of a career in hip-hop cultural production. The sub-theme of getting paid encompasses the strategies employed by hip-hop cultural producers to convert their social and cultural capital into economic returns. Getting paid as a hip-hop cultural producer involves a combination of street savvy and conventional business logic encompassing the ability to develop a salable skill or product, marketing it successfully, and managing career growth.

The final theme, subcultural capital, was found to have three sub-themes: (a) the voice of the streets, (b) managing the brand, and (c) developing an authentic style. The sub-theme the voice of the streets catalogs participants’ understanding of hip-hop in relation to articulations of the African American experience as a racially oppressed minority. Tensions emerged regarding

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the ‘true’ role of hip-hop for fulfilling this aim. Some participants focused on using hip-hop as an artistic means for social change and resistance against white supremacy. Others preferred a more

‘street level’ reporting or glamorization of criminal behavior, subterranean values, and other topics typically associated with the genre of gansta’ rap.

The second sub-theme, managing the brand, addresses the methods by which cultural producers promote and create their public image as an artist. One noteworthy method centering on crafting a brand identity around the artist, emulating the careers of several high-profile hip- hop stars such as Jay-Z or Sean “Puffy” Combs.

The final sub-theme, developing an authentic style, covers two competing perspectives on the ‘truth telling’ of hip-hop cultural producers, their artistic works, and public images. One camp indicated that hip-hop cultural products should be honest and authentic representations of the artist. A second camp with a differing taste judgment treated artistic works as a form of entertainment, in which hip-hop cultural producers are allowed artistic license to dramatize, hyperbolize, or create a brand identity that is partially or entirely fictional.

These findings suggest that there are multiple strategic pathways to become a hip-hop cultural producer. Although the strategies for transferring capital into a career in hip-hop cultural production may be fluid, the necessity of having capital is not. Successfully developing a career in hip-hop cultural production requires the acquisition and mobilization of capital, strategically expended, in pursuit of a specific artistic and occupational outcome. Furthermore, the successful pursuit of a career in hip-hop cultural production entails that all of the species of capital are employed in concert. This implies that hip-hop cultural producers acquire and exert capital according to their strategy, as they understand it. Lastly, these results support the conceptualization that the field of hip-hop cultural production is not a stable, uniform domain,

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but instead one that is highly contingent and contextualized, containing multiple avenues for success or failure depending on the resources employed, the tactics utilized, and the overall understanding of the ‘rules of the game’ at play.

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CHAPTER V

DISCUSSION, CONTRIBUTIONS, AND RECOMMENDATIONS

The use of a Bourdieusian framework to qualitatively explore the relationship between hip-hop artistry and various forms of capital addresses a number of key research questions regarding the intersection where cultural production and issues of racial inequality meet. First, it catalogs the social characteristics of the field and habitus concerning the cultural production of hip-hop music. Secondly, it describes the contributions of economic, cultural, and social capital within the cultural production of hip-hop. Lastly, it adds understanding to the contribution that subcultural capital provides for a hip-hop cultural production career.

Findings indicate that, contrary to popular conceptions of hip-hop as providing an openly participatory artistic voice for the black community, the field of hip-hop cultural production requires significant reserves of cultural, social, and economic capital available to only the more highly capitalized African Americans. Furthermore, hip-hop subcultural capital, defined as one subcultural manifestation of the unique dispositions, cultural values, and aesthetics of African

American life in the United States, is indicated to be a necessary, but quite insufficient, resource within hip-hop cultural production. Consequently, African Americans lacking the necessary cultural, social, and economic capital generally fail in attempts to participate in the field of hip- hop cultural production, regardless of the quality or sophistication of subcultural capital they possess.

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This chapter is divided into four sections: (a) discussion of the findings, (b) contributions to the field, (c) limitations of this study, and (d) the potential for future research related to the species of capital and the cultural production of hip-hop.

DISCUSSION

Engaging in hip-hop cultural production requires the mobilization of an array of capital in furtherance of artistic and career pursuits. Within Bourdieu’s (1986) theoretical framework, these species of capital are defined as social, cultural, and economic capital. Additionally, the resource of subcultural capital (Thornton 1995) native to the social world of hip-hop cultural production is also employed as a resource in the hip-hop cultural production career. These resources are contingently acquired and expended during the life course of artists engaged in cultural production in a process that potentially transfer non-economic forms of capital into economic capital. Ultimately, these different forms of capital, as well as the manner in which they are utilized, determine the capacity and trajectory of an artist navigating the field of hip-hop cultural production. In other words, hip-hop artists marshal their acquired social, cultural, economic, and subcultural capital within the field of cultural production towards the goal of constructing an economically viable professional career.

What follows is a discussion of the species of capital within the field of hip-hop cultural production. A number of key findings are revealed regarding the relationship between the species of capital and the field of cultural production. However, prior to examining the specific findings related to the field of hip-hop cultural production, a further explanation of the characteristics of capital is required regarding its acquisition and accumulative properties over the life course indicated by the findings of this study.

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First, it is understood that capital is acquired as a part of social life, reflecting the institutions one has passed through, social class origins, familial or peer associations, and other socially structured aspects of culture (Bourdieu 1986; 1983). Clarifying Bourdieu’s concept, the early process of acquiring capital from the family can be understood as the formative capitalization of the individual, a process that Bourdieu (1986) acknowledges, but perhaps only passingly. Capitalization occurs in the family, the social context in which one’s initial social class is determined, in which cultural understanding, dispositions, and social networks are structured, all of which form a foundation for additional capital accumulation.

Secondly, in regards to family capitalization, mothers were actively present in the upbringing for all thirty of the participants. On the other hand, seventeen (fifty-six percent) of the participants indicated that their fathers were actively involved in their upbringing. Twenty-two participants (seventy three percent) indicated the influence of mothers as providing capital for the hip-hop cultural production career versus only seven participants (twenty-three percent) indicating their fathers provided capital. These findings suggest that mothers play a pivotal role in the capitalization of artists for hip-hop cultural production. This importance of mothers for the capitalization of cultural producers is in contrast to the negative symbolic depiction of women often pervading hip-hop lyrics and images.

Third, further developing the theories of Bourdieu, social and cultural capital can be observed to display accumulative properties similar to those of economic capital. Thus, reserves of social and cultural capital often lead to additional cultural and social capital, similar to the cliché that “it takes money to make money.” In the most elementary pattern, species of capital such as cultural or social capital transfer to additional economic capital. However, the actual pattern of accumulation is multidimensional and varied as cultural capital may lead to the

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acquisition of additional social capital, or vise-versa. Or, to offer a further example, the social capital of networks may lead to the accumulation of more expansive social capital. Similarly, the exercise of cultural capital can lead to the acquisition of further cultural capital. Thus, the possibilities for exchange and appreciation amongst the various species of capital are cumulative and varied.

Elaborating Bourdieu’s model further, an investment of cultural and social capital like an investment of economic capital requires the passage of time to realize returns. Furthermore, like long-term financial investment, cultural and social capital potentially yields greater results over the long term, due to their potentially accumulative properties. Or, to say it another way, cultural and social capital acquired earlier in life provide conceivably more benefit over the life course because it can mature and has a greater period of time in which to enable additional accumulation of capital in various forms. Any such accumulation of capital can be multiplicative, parallel to the growth of an investment through compound interest. Therefore, the age at which various species of capital are acquired and further developed becomes critical, as capital accumulated earlier has a greater period of time in which to compound, translate to other types of capital, or transfer into economic capital.

Unlike the temporal trajectory of financial institutions such as corporations, the lifespans of individuals are biologically constrained and finite. Furthermore, humans traverse through different life stages, from childhood to adolescence to adulthood, that are socially structured as part of the life course. Consequently, when describing the lives of hip-hop cultural producers, it is important to frame the species of capital within the life course. Capital has a general tendency to compound and accumulate more capital over time, and when this pattern is interpolated within the life course, different career arcs and trajectories can be created.

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In order to compare these different trajectories, the remainder of this section shall examine hip-hop cultural producers based on their transference of non-economic capital into economic returns and the role of subcultural capital in the field of hip-hop cultural production.

The first topic to be addressed is the successful transfer of capital into a hip-hop cultural production career. The next topic to be discussed is the non-transference and lack of capital as a heuristic tool for understanding contexts in which a cultural production career has not currently been achieved. Lastly, the topic of subcultural capital and its relationship to hip-hop cultural production shall be examined.

TRANSFER OF CAPITAL

According to Bourdieu (1986), a successful transfer of capital occurs when social, cultural, or economic capital is converted into surplus economic capital. This exchange often occurs through an occupation or profession, manifesting in salary, wages, or other types of material compensation on a continual basis. For the purposes of this study, a successful transfer of capital refers to the accomplishment of a career in hip-hop cultural production that provides the sole or primary economic earnings for the participant. This definition excludes participants who reported earning a majority of their income in a field other than hip-hop cultural production, such as a conventional occupation and participants whose earnings result from criminal activities, or participants who invest more economic capital into their hip-hop production career than is returned. Participants who have successfully transferred capital into a hip-hop cultural production career shall be designated as the transfer group. In contrast, the participants who have not successfully transferred capital into a hip-hop career as their primary occupation shall be labeled as the non-transfer group.

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The transfer group consists of ten individuals who self-identified as earning all or the majority of their income from hip-hop cultural production. Eight participants reported that they had successfully transferred to a career in hip-hop cultural production. Two participants indicated that they were formerly employed as hip-hop cultural producers but have both transitioned to promotion and booking within the entertainment industry. Due to their occasional involvement in hip-hop cultural production as an additional source of revenue and their prior success as hip-hop cultural producers, as well as their continued involvement as cultural mediators within the music industry, these two individuals were included amongst the transfer group. One participant had previously been signed to a major label record deal and experienced significant success as an artist and producer. The other informant had engineered and produced a series of successful national-level hip-hop artists more than twenty years ago. For both participants, the transition into music promotion and booking was a career-based, economically lucrative promotion reflecting a more upwardly mobile transfer into the higher echelons of the hip-hop cultural production industry.

Transfer Group Participant Characteristics

A number of key differences are found when comparing the transfer group to the non- transfer group. First, the transfer group participants possess greater degrees of education, with all of the participants having completed high school or greater. In comparison, twenty percent of the non-transfer group had not completed high school. Transfer group participants displayed twice the rate of college attendance compared to the non-transfer group. The transfer group participants had significant differences in onset of musical participation, age of onset for hip-hop cultural production, and number of years of hip-hop involvement. The transfer group began general

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music involvement far earlier, starting at 11.7 years of age on average—4.4 years earlier than the average for the non-transfer group. Furthermore, the transfer group became involved with hip- hop on average 5.1 years earlier than the non-transfer group. Among the transfer group, participants averaged 17.1 years involvement as hip-hop cultural producers, 7.5 years more experience on average than the non-transfer group. The rate of musical proficiency was higher amongst the transfer group (60 percent) compared to the non-transfer participants (45 percent).

Despite the differences in age of musical involvement, age of beginning involvement with hip- hop, and years of hip-hop cultural production experience, there is no significant difference in age between the transfer group and non-transfer group.

Lastly, there are stark differences regarding reported criminal involvement between the groups. Only two transfer group participants, twenty-percent of the total, indicated that they had a criminal record or served prison time, compared to the non-transfer group, that had nine participants, a total of forty-five percent, having been incarcerated.

The Transfer of Technical Cultural Production

Significantly, all ten members of the transfer group are engaged in hip-hop cultural production within the producer role, typically in a combination of music composition, audio engineering and/or production. Currently, none of the transfer group is making a successful career from their artistry as MC’s or DJ’s. Instead, participants in the transfer group are occupationally involved in freelance: (a) beat or music composition, (b) audio engineering and recording, and (c) working as a producer. Careers among the transfer group therefor involve facilitating the cultural production of other hip-hop artists. Amongst these participants, it should be noted that certain technical and musical capabilities—the ability to create recordings or write

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compositions—were the defining resources that enabled a cultural production career, not their artistry. However, only a single member of the transfer group had no interest in their own artistry as a MC; the remainder of the transfer group reported that they had, or currently maintain, ambitions to have their own artistic career as a MC. These interests were ambitions rather than attempts because, as many participants communicated, the amount of economic gain from their artistry is minimal in comparison to the income earned in a producer capacity.

Ownership of the means of cultural production. All ten of the transfer group participants indicated that they owned and operated a home recording studio that they operated independently of the institutionalized music industry. These cultural production spaces ranged from small setups consisting of a laptop computer, minimal processing equipment, a microphone, and rudimentary acoustic treatment, to more elaborate, multi-room facilities costing tens of thousands of dollars. Owning and operating one’s own recording studio, the means of cultural production, requires not only the social and cultural capital required to work as a hip-hop producer, but also the investment of significant reserves of economic capital into recording equipment and the space in which to house a studio. Furthermore, a home recording studio represents vital cultural capital in its objectified form within the realm of hip-hop cultural production. The power of the home recording studio, a form of cultural capital, to transfer itself into economic capital is clearly evidenced by its universality among transfer group participants.

Many of the transfer group participants discussed their recording studio setup, describing the expenditure of economic capital as being an investment—a vehicle for realizing greater material returns. In a related observation, transfer group participants often noted that they view their own abilities as producers, the cultural capital they have developed to produce hip-hop

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music, as another type of investment. Lastly, many stressed the importance of cultivating their social capital, developing durable networks of clients and other industry professionals, as yet another type of investment in their career. These descriptive themes provide support for the argument that a successful hip-hop cultural production career requires the expenditure and accumulation of all the species of capital.

Early Onset and Accumulation of Capital

A key difference between the transfer group and the non-transfer group is the significant difference in age of onset for involvement in music, age of onset for hip-hop cultural production, and total years of involvement in hip-hop cultural production. Overall, the transfer group averaged far earlier involvement with music, by more than four years, and began culturally producing hip-hop at younger ages—starting on average 5.1 years ahead of the non-transfer group. Nearly forty-percent of the transfer group began hip-hop cultural production prior to fourteen years of age, whereas only five-percent of the non-transfer group had a similar experience. Furthermore, all ten of the transfer group participants had begun hip-hop cultural production prior to age eighteen, whereas more than half of the non-transfer group started after eighteen years of age. These differences translate to significant differences in the total years of experience within hip-hop cultural production between the two groups. The transfer group has, on average, 17.1 years of experience in hip-hop cultural production compared to the non-transfer group participants who averaged 9.6 years of experience. These differences of preparation in musical involvement and hip-hop cultural production are even more relevant considering that participant age was not a significant factor. In other words, transfer group participants had

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accumulated far more years of musical and cultural production experience at the same average age as the non-transfer group.

These findings suggest that having an early onset in musical participation and hip-hop cultural production has an influence over the career trajectory for artists. Theoretically, this longer process enables the compounded accumulation of capital over the long term, enabling the transfer of capital into a career in hip-hop cultural production. In general, transfer group participants are characterized by far earlier onset of musical activity and involvement with hip- hop cultural production than the non-transfer group participants.

Conversion of Social Capital to Cultural Capital

Upon analysis, another common trend regarding the successful transfer of capital into a hip-hop cultural production career is the link between social and cultural capital. Overall, transfer group participants had direct social access to the cultural capital of music performance or hip-hop audio production through family members, institutions, or mentors. Some transfer group participants, such as Curtis and Darrel, were encouraged to pursue music instruction at early ages. Curtis’ mother, for example, was supportive of his musical ambitions, purchasing him his first instruments when he was eight years old, transporting him to music lessons, and even purchasing recording studio time so Curtis could learn from the engineers how to record audio.

Darrel experienced a similar social capitalization, first being encouraged by his parents to become a classical pianist, and then, when he was twelve years old, and then becoming interested in hip-hop music composition and production and deciding to pursue that. Furthermore, Darrel’s parents assisted him in purchasing equipment to build his first home recording studio, from which he was able to earn money recording his peers and selling music that he composed.

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James, a hip-hop composer, was taught how to play the guitar by his father, a 1970’s rhythm guitar player in a series of R&B, rock, and blues bands, who provided frequent and valuable instruction in music theory and composition. Tayvon, formerly a hip-hop cultural producer and major label recording artist, explained that his parents were key to his success as they stressed excellence and motivation as important values in his upbringing. Tayvon indicated that his parents required each of their children to develop hobbies and interests in the arts, ranging from music to painting, and they provided support, guidance, and discipline for these activities. As a consequence of this upbringing, in which Tayvon chose to focus on music performance, he was provided with instruments, required to practice daily, and afforded lessons on music composition and theory.

While parental fostering of musical interest was exhibited among many of the transfer group, other familial bonds provided avenues to cultural capital appropriate for hip-hop production. Rich, for example, had an older cousin who was already an established hip-hop producer and engineer. Based on their association, starting at age thirteen, Rich was able to receive hands-on mentorship in the cultural production of hip-hop, ranging from music composition to audio engineering. Furthermore, his cousin provided Rich with invaluable advice, such as stressing the importance of acquiring musical performance skills, that proved influential for Rich’s decision-making early in his cultural production career. Arthur, a former hip-hop producer who is currently working in major label promotions, recalled the intensive mentorship he received in his early teenage years from his uncle who owned a hip-hop studio. While Arthur lacked musical instruction during his upbringing, his uncle taught him how to use technology to construct hip-hop beats as well as teaching him recording technology and audio mixing— valuable skills for a cultural producer.

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Social capital is not limited to family members alone, however. For instance, James recalled picking up from coworkers at Guitar Center aspects of cultural production such as audio recording that he later depended upon in advancing a hip-hop cultural production career.

Work on Oneself

While approximately half of the transfer group participants’ biographies indicated the link between social and cultural capital, the majority of successful hip-hop cultural producers indicated that their own personal drive towards accumulating cultural capital, described by the participants as “grinding,” was a key feature of their professional development. This “work on oneself” (Bourdieu 1986: 48), whereby informants dedicated significant time, energy, and commitment towards acquiring and mastering the cultural capital required to operate in the field of hip-hop cultural production, was a common factor reported by those who successfully transferred pre-existing capital into a career. Furthermore, as Bourdieu (1986) notes, this self- improvement is one that “…presupposes a personal cost” (48) of time, effort, and sacrifice.

In general, the transfer group participants described countless hours spent refining their cultural production repertoire in activities that ranged from researching audio production techniques to studying music composition and performance in order to develop their craft.

Lester, who earns his living as a beat writer and producer, spent thirteen years in a “daily grind” learning hip-hop cultural production before his capital could successfully be transferred into the form of a full time career. This drive, Lester explained, resulted from his desire to produce albums that sounded better than the professional records released by the music industry, an aspiration that demanded years of practice and study in his home recording studio.

James, an audio producer, also describes a daily dedication to hip-hop cultural production, stating that he wakes up early in the morning each day to write one or two beats—a

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ritual that he has adhered to for more than twenty years. When asked to explain his intense drive to improve his craft, James indicated that he fears not being good enough or that his competitors, other beat writers and engineers, may surpass his skills. Similarly, Orlando, one of James’ competitors, is also motivated to constantly improve his abilities, citing an early experience when one of his social acquaintances said his work “sucked.” Rather than being discouraged,

Orlando focused his energy on putting in work to improve his skill, upgrading his recording equipment, and adopting a perfectionist attitude towards projects he produces.

Hard work and dedication to work on oneself can eventually result in a career in hip-hop cultural production, however the structural context in which work occurs can be more or less facilitating, clearly. Braxton, who has been involved in hip-hop cultural production for twenty- five years, only saw his capital transfer into a full time career after nearly nineteen years of development and experience. Trey, whose career in hip-hop cultural production was only recently established, spent the previous nine years similarly dedicated, working to increase his capacities for pursuing his adolescent dream of being a hip-hop producer.

Work on oneself in the digital age. In regards to work on oneself, six transfer group participants indicated that the Internet was integral to their career development. The utility of the

Internet for fostering work on oneself was most prevalent among the younger participants whose capital had transferred to a cultural production career. Lester, Orlando, James, Rich, and Trey described watching user-generated videos, reading online professional publications, engaging in online conversations with more experienced cultural producers, and using other freely available materials on the Internet. The Internet therefore granted them access to knowledge, techniques, perspectives, and cultural dispositions that were unavailable just a generation ago.

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As an example, Orlando, originally lacking social or cultural capital in regards to hip-hop production, stated that he was able to teach himself audio production on the basis of online tutorials, instructions, and other materials related to audio recording and music composition.

Trey, who initially received his rudimentary training in audio recording at college, supplemented this training with information found on the Internet and his own personal experimentation. These developments suggest an emerging access to cultural capital, especially in the form of knowledge related to cultural production that was previously ‘trade secrets’ within the music industry. This shift potentially indicates that access to the cultural capital required for competition within the field of cultural production is open to those with Internet access, ample time, and the will to work on oneself.

In a related technological development, many transfer group participants entered hip-hop cultural production without expending economic capital by using illegal, pirated copies of music production software. Three transfer group participants, James, Darrel, and Rich, stressed the importance of ‘cracked’ copies of the software program Fruity Loops for enabling entry into hip- hop cultural production. Through this medium participants were able to experiment freely with hip-hop cultural production and hone their skills at no cost. The use of pirated software was especially attractive for adolescent participants due to their lack of access to the economic capital needed for legally purchasing recording software. While all of these participants upgraded to legal copies of audio recording software offering a more professional interface and features, the use of pirated computer programs allowed these participants to begin acquiring cultural capital related to audio production and music composition much earlier than would have been possible had they been required to spend hundreds of dollars on legal software or recording hardware.

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Transfer Group Profile: Tayvon

Tayvon grew up in a middle-class family. Tayvon’s mother was a college graduate and worked for the Federal Court of Appeals. His father was a military veteran and worked as a helicopter mechanic. Growing up, Tayvon described a childhood of private schools and yearly vacations to South America.

When Tayvon was young he was exposed to hip-hop by attending neighborhood parties thrown by DJ Kool Herc and the Sugarhill Gang in the late 1970s. Inspired by these parties,

Tayvon began DJ’ing at his elementary school, hosting roller skating and dance parties. Around the same time, when he was around seven years old, Tayvon purchased a keyboard and began taking music lessons, playing for his classmates at school during their lunch period.

Tayvon’s parents emphasized educational and extracurricular involvement in their household. Exceptional academic performance was expected of Tayvon. One time, when Tayvon earned a ‘D’ in a class, his parents contacted the school and made him repeat the class. When

Tayvon was eight or nine years old his parents bought him an encyclopedia set and required him to write book reports on a variety of subjects. Furthermore, Tayvon was required to watch the news daily and read periodicals like Time Magazine. His parents also required the children to develop interests in the arts as well as be active in sports. According to Tayvon, this upbringing instilled a drive for excellence.

During adolescence Tayvon increasingly focused on music and hip-hop. As a part of his church, Tayvon participated in performing worship music by playing keyboard and as a member of the choir. Tayvon also began writing and recording his own original hip-hop tracks, first on his own, and later forming a group with a number of his friends. Tayvon described this as an

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important part of his development as a hip-hop artist because, as an early adolescent, he had the opportunity to devote all of his free time to pursuing music. During this time, Tayvon focused on honing his recording engineering and producing skills. These efforts created an opportunity for

Tayvon to earn an income by producing local hip-hop artists. Most of the money that Tayvon earned in hip-hop production was invested into purchasing instruments and recording equipment.

In spite of Tayvon’s relatively privileged background, he described the lyrical content of his early music as being violent, misogynistic, and focusing on criminal actions for dramatic effect. Tayvon indicated that his choice of subject matter was influenced by the themes of hip- hop artists that were successful at the time. Tayvon indicated that as he matured as an artist and person those themes were gradually replaced by more pro-social themes and messages designed to comment on society in positive and transformative ways.

After high school, Tayvon attended college with the ambition to study law. While attending college Tayvon continued to write and perform hip-hop music, putting together a series of groups, each one more professional than the last. Additionally, Tayvon continued to earn a living by producing other hip-hop artists. Shortly after Tayvon completed his bachelor’s degree in business administration and criminology, his hip-hop career began to flourish. At first,

Tayvon’s group was invited to tour as an opening act for a national hip-hop group. Midway through the tour, Tayvon’s group signed a major label recording deal.

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NON-TRANSFER OF CAPITAL

The transference of accumulated capital into hip-hop careers is of critical interest, but it only accounts for part of the relationship between the species of capital and the cultural production of hip-hop. Equally important is investigation of factors related to the non-transfer of capital among the participants who were unsuccessful in establishing a hip-hop career.

Understanding the non-transference of capital provides a richer understanding of the nature of capital, illustrating that it does not necessarily accumulate, compound, and transfer over time, but may contract and potentially deteriorate.

While the species of capital are influential within the field of hip-hop cultural production, they are not determinate nor are they absolute. In other words, the transference of capital is not guaranteed, regardless of degree, quality, or quantity. Instead, capital must be carefully accumulated and expended strategically in the furtherance of the acquisition of greater capital, be it social, cultural, or economic. In this fashion, any of the species of capital may be squandered, left untapped, or otherwise misused.

As an example, consider Max’s story of achieving early success, in which he opened concerts for a major label artist, whom he had met through his cousin. Max relates how, finding himself backstage surrounded by industry professionals such as music managers and other cultural intermediaries, he indulged in marijuana and alcohol rather than building his social capital with these valuable contacts. Shortly thereafter Max regretted this squandered opportunity when his nascent career stalled. Max’s story further illustrates the non-fungible nature of capital, meaning that the value of capital varies over time, much as it can vary in value based on the context and field, capable of becoming more or less valuable, or even unavailable.

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Max is an example of squandered social capital, but the non-transfer of capital was illustrated in the biographies of a number of participants who were, in most respects, reasonably well capitalized for a career in hip-hop cultural production. The decision to enter a career as a hip-hop cultural producer may present too great of a risk for participants such as Robert, who has a middle class occupation, is married, and responsible for young children. Robert, who creates hip-hop with Sonny, freely admitted that he is content with recreationally creating music, an attitude held in contrast to Sonny’s desire to have a career as a hip-hop artist.

In a similar fashion, some participants may have shifting priorities about focusing on a career in hip-hop cultural production. Alex, who has recently returned to college, has been working on his hip-hop career since he was sixteen years old, having spent the majority of his early adult life working as a music journalist. While Alex has subsequently pursued his degree in business, he has also doubled down on his artistic career. Given his high network of social capital in the music industry, coupled with his years of experience in hip-hop cultural production,

Alex has the potential to realize a career with a skillful maneuvering of capital. All of these examples illustrate how the presence of capital alone does not determine a career; instead, actors must elect to pursue a particular goal and expend capital towards its fulfillment.

Non-Transfer Group Participant Characteristics

In comparison to the transfer group participants, non-transfer group participants had lower levels of education, started music and hip-hop cultural production at later ages, had less experience as cultural producers, were slightly younger, and reported lower rates of musical instrument proficiency. Of the thirty participants interviewed, twenty of them did not see their capital successfully transfer into a career in hip-hop cultural production. Key observations include that the average age of onset for musical involvement among non-transfer group

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participants was 16.1 years, compared to on average 11.7 years of age for transfer group participants. Furthermore, the mean age for transfer group participants to become involved with hip-hop cultural production was starting at 13.3 years, compared to a mean of 18.4 years for non- transfer participants. Furthermore, non-transfer group participants had 7.5 years less experience as hip-hop cultural producers on average, despite insignificant differences in age from the transfer group participants.

Late Onset of Cultural Production

There are a number of practical limitations imposed by beginning cultural production at a later age. First, there are the accumulative properties of capital by which earlier capital compounds, leading to a greater reserve of cultural, social, and potentially economic capital. For hip-hop cultural producers who start musical involvement earlier, their initial investment appears to grow exponentially over time, leading to greater opportunities to achieve more and more capital, which finally transferred into a career. By contrast, the non-transfer group has on average

7.5 years less experience despite their average age only being 2.8 years younger than the average age of the transfer group. This suggests that entirely different outcomes follow from the later age of onset for acquiring musical proficiency and hip-hop involvement. Furthermore, while all of the transfer group participants began cultural production by seventeen years of age, fifty-five percent of the non-transfer group participants had not yet initiated involvement with hip-hop cultural production—an enormous disadvantage in regards to the accumulation of capital.

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Lack of Cultural Capital in Hip-Hop Cultural Production

Further supplementing possessing less experience as cultural producers and musicians, the non-transfer group also displays diminished levels of capital related specifically to hip-hop cultural production. The non-transfer group has a much lower proportion of participants with musical competencies with only forty-five percent reporting musical competency. Additionally, studio engineering and other technical skills of cultural production are also missing or underdeveloped in comparison to the transfer group. All ten of the transfer group participants

(one-hundred percent) reported audio recording and production skills as part of their repertoire as a hip-hop cultural producer. In contrast, only twenty-five percent of the non-transfer group reported similar cultural capital in regards to audio production. This difference by itself has enormous significance considering that all of the transfer group cultural producers’ careers are centered on music composition and audio engineering, not artistry. The non-transfer group participants’ lack of capital in regards to the technical elements of hip-hop cultural production potentially accounts for the inability to transition into full time musical careers.

However, some of the lack of hip-hop cultural capital can be accounted for simply by the lack of experience (to date) amongst some of the participants. For example, Sonny has advanced musical proficiency, having played guitar and keyboard for approximately fifteen years, as well as having received instruction in audio engineering. But, it was only four years ago that Sonny decided to pursue a hip-hop career, a clear disadvantage. A lack of specific hip-hop experience is not an insurmountable disadvantage, though. Sonny is working with Robert, who is experienced in hip-hop composition and production—a social capital resource and potential source of additional cultural capital. Consequently, it would not be surprising if, in the future, Sonny

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would be able to convert his capital into a hip-hop production career, as there is a clear potential for a strategic mobilization of resources to enable success.

There are other participants, in addition to Sonny, whose capital has not transferred into a career due to only recently becoming involved in hip-hop cultural production. Christian, who is twenty-three years old, has only been involved with music and hip-hop for two years. Andre, who is also young, began his musical involvement four years ago. Although both Andre and

Christian started later than average, there still exists the possibility, even if they are at a disadvantage due to their age of onset, they could transition into a full time career in hip-hop cultural production.

In addition to a lack of experience and decreased capital accumulation due to only having recent involvement with hip-hop cultural production, a common characteristic of the non-transfer group is a lack of musical proficiency. Musical proficiency is defined as the ability to perform musical instruments, knowledge of music theory, and formal capacity for writing songs. Only forty-five percent of the non-transfer participants reported musical proficiency, a far lower proportion than the transfer group participants, sixty-percent of who reported music proficiency.

The lack of music proficiency, despite having years of involvement with hip-hop cultural production, characterizes the careers of Max, Nate, and William—none of whom have managed to transfer their capital into a career in hip-hop cultural production. Given the central role that composing and selling musical beats plays in establishing a career among the successfully transferred artists, it is not surprising that these individuals have difficulty establishing themselves occupationally as hip-hop cultural producers.

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Incarceration Interrupts the Hip-Hop Career Trajectory

The impact of incarceration appears to be detrimental for career aspirations among potential hip-hop cultural producers, based on the prevalence of imprisonment among the non- transfer group participants. In comparison to the transfer group, of which ten-percent of the participants had been incarcerated, the non-transfer group participants reported being incarcerated at a much higher rate. Among the non-transfer group participants, thirty-percent of the participants reported having served at least one prison sentence. In total, fifty-five percent of the non-transfer group participants indicated a prior criminal record.

Despite the subcultural value of a criminal record, it is not surprising that incarceration would negatively impact a hip-hop career given the importance of capital in cultural production.

First, there is a direct impact on accumulated capital resulting from arrest, conviction, and incarceration. The potential loss of economic capital, material possessions, time, energy, and motivation to perform work on oneself due to incarceration should be clear. Furthermore, due to the potentially stigmatizing impact of a criminal status, the loss of social capital is also potentially problematic. Secondly, due to the incapacitating nature of incarceration, which removes an individual from conventional society, the compounding effect of capital would be reduced or eliminated altogether. Therefore, not only does incarceration subtract capital resources and prevent additional earnings, but it also could very well decrease its accumulative properties. As prison sentences are typically long, the impact of incarceration on a developing hip-hop career can easily be disastrous.

As evidence of the deleterious effect of incarceration on a hip-hop career, consider

De’Ante’s experience with imprisonment. De’Ante is a highly capitalized participant that began music instruction before he was a teenager, becoming proficient in keyboard and trumpet.

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De’Ante was surrounded by cultural capital from his parents, who paid for music lessons and an elite education at a private high school. When De’Ante was seventeen he began creating beats and quickly transitioned to selling them to other hip-hop artists, describing their creation as being

“easy” due to his familiarity with music composition and theory. However, when he was a young adult he was convicted of a felony offense and sentenced to ten years in prison. De’Ante, now in his thirties, has spent the last three years struggling with establishing a hip-hop career, to very little effect.

Kennan, a thirty-seven years old MC, who has been incarcerated numerous times in his adult life, has also not seen his capital transfer into that of a full time hip-hop career. This is especially frustrating for Kennan since, due to being unemployed, he focuses all his time on recording songs, playing live concerts, and otherwise investing his energy into accomplishing a hip-hop cultural production career.

Current criminal activity. Findings suggest that current criminal activity prevents non- transfer group participants from transferring their capital into hip-hop cultural production careers. Five of twenty (twenty-five percent) non-transfer participants self-identified3 as being currently involved in criminal behavior, typically illegal narcotic sales, whereas none of the transfer group volunteered information indicating they were involved with criminal behavior.

When non-transfer group participants addressed criminal behavior it was typically positioned as a temporary measure to raise economic capital to fund their cultural production activities.

3 In cases where participants discussed illegal activities they did so of their own volition while responding to open-ended questions. Participants were not prompted by the researcher to answer any questions regarding criminal behavior. Participants’ disclosure of illegal behavior occurred naturally as part of the narration of their lived experiences and attendant meanings regarding hip- hop cultural production.

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Furthermore, participants who reported they used illegal means to gain economic capital to fund their careers typically explained that these criminal actions would cease upon achieving a hip- hop cultural production career.

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Non-Transfer Group Profile: Quinten

Quinten describes growing up with two siblings in a lower class family headed by his mother. Quinten’s parents were never married, nor had they ever cohabitated. Quinten’s mother worked sporadically, primarily within the service industry in occupations such as retail cashier or fast food service. His father was largely absent from his life until Quinten was in his twenties.

Money in his household was typically scarce and there were a number of times that their electricity or water services were temporarily turned off. Quinten also describes having to change residences once or twice a year. Typically these moves were due to falling behind on rent and being unable to afford arrears. A number of times Quinten had to stay with relatives, occasionally living separately from his mother and siblings.

Quinten attended a number of urban public schools located in impoverished, high crime neighborhoods. He rarely spent more than three years at any single institution due to changing residences so frequently. While attending school Quinten did not participate in any extracurricular activities or sports because many of these programs were too expensive.

Furthermore, Quinten reported that he had to repeat two years of school due to his absenteeism or disciplinary problems. Further adding to his troubles at school, Quinten was arrested twice when he was a minor and spent a few weeks in juvenile detention. Quinten said that he was part of “the bad kids” who were always getting into trouble. However, despite these difficulties,

Quinten eventually graduated high school when he was nineteen years old.

A year earlier, when Quinten was eighteen years old, he became more familiar with hip- hop when one of his friends began recording hip-hop songs at a local studio. Based on this experience Quinten became interested in pursuing his own hip-hop cultural production career.

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Because Quinten lacked any musical training he purchased music beats from the Internet and booked time at a local recording studio. Quinten found his first years creating hip-hop to be challenging as he expected that it would be easy to write lyrics and rap. The primary theme of

Quinten’s music and lyrics was “making it” as a successful hip-hop artist and achieving fame and financial wealth.

About two years into his hip-hop career Quinten was arrested, convicted, and sentenced to serve eighteen months in prison. Currently on parole, Quinten is attempting to re-start his hip- hop career, having lost much of the momentum he had been building up. Occupationally,

Quinten is currently unemployed, having just lost a job as a restaurant cook.

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SUBCULTURAL CAPITAL

Subcultural capital, defined as dispositions, aesthetic taste, and cultural knowledge unique to a specific subculture, occupies a contested position in the cultural production of hip- hop. There are a number of reasons, based on the participants’ descriptions, that it is difficult to gauge subcultural capital within the cultural production of hip-hop.

First, hip-hop is often culturally positioned as an artistic product that speaks for the

African American community as if it were a single entity expressing a cultural consensus for all of its members. However, the black community is multifaceted, presenting a wide variety of differing worldviews, practices, and values. To speak of a uniform ‘black community’ performs a disservice to its actual depth and complexity. Secondly, as subcultural capital addresses investment in the ‘cultures of taste,’ it should be recognized that cultures change and evolve over time. What constitutes prime subcultural capital during one period of time may be symbolically worthless, or even detrimental, only a few years later. Consequently, due to the varied and changing nature of culture, similar dissonance occurs when addressing African American subcultural capital.

Despite such complexity, it was possible to identify thematic topics of subcultural importance among the participants, albeit with clear variation in the significance, meaning, or orientation to the topic. For example, the subject of authenticity among hip-hop cultural producers was addressed by nearly all of the participants. However, the techniques and attitudes for realizing authenticity through the medium of hip-hop were contested. Some participants considered the presentation of a stylized image as an authentic response to working within the entertainment industry, whereas to others the presentation of a different public image, often called a ‘brand,’ was considered to be authentic.

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This discussion of authenticity is further complicated due to the symbolic association of hip-hop and crime. Once again, participants differed in their accounts of navigating these tensions within hip-hop. Some participants refused to create an image or write lyrics that valorized criminal behavior. However, other participants expressly attempted to cultivate a criminal, gangsta’ image. A few participants went further, suggesting their criminal lifestyle and behavior directly inform the content of their music, in effect claiming their artistry is an authentic, autobiographical account of their lived experiences.

It is unlikely, and possibly undesirable, to resolve these tensions regarding the expression of authenticity within the subculture of hip-hop cultural producers. After all, few cultures are internally consistent, why should hip-hop be judged differently?

However, as subcultural capital refers to a particular knowledge of ‘taste culture’ that is essential to the creation of cultural products such as hip-hop, further investigation of this topic is crucial. Unfortunately, given the subjective, unstable, and ineffable nature of what is relevant to a particular culture or subculture, it is a challenge to quantify or qualify what constitutes actual subcultural capital. But it certainly can be argued that having an aesthetic understanding of what constitutes authenticity is vitally important for any cultural producer, including hip-hop artists.

Having an innate understanding of the conventions, codes, styles, and appropriate ‘look and feel’ for an artistic genre appears, at face value, to be a prerequisite in order to create marketable cultural products. In fact, Deena Weinstein (1991), in her study of heavy metal subculture, affirms the importance of having a specialized artistic knowledge of the unwritten, unspoken codes that define a musical genre in order to convincingly create and perform within that field.

Thus, subcultural capital may well be essential for the cultural production of hip-hop.

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While subcultural capital is undoubtedly important, it remains difficult to fully define, let alone measure. The contribution of subcultural capital is therefore difficult to estimate compared to the direct influence of social, cultural, or economic capital that have clear impacts on hip-hop careers. Consequently, the data analyzed for this study, the relationship between subcultural capital and the cultural production suggest that subcultural capital is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition for a successful career in hip-hop cultural production.

SUMMARY OF FINDINGS

This study qualitatively explored the interactions between social, cultural, economic, and subcultural capital in relation to the cultural production of hip-hop. Findings suggest that early capitalization of individuals, typically occurring through social networks such as the family, prepare artists for a successful transfer of capital into a hip-hop cultural production career. One key observation is that the ages of onset for musical preparation and entry into hip-hop cultural production are important for establishing a life course trajectory towards completing a successful transfer of capital into a career. In general, participants who began acquiring cultural capital in regards to hip-hop cultural production at younger ages tended to transfer capital to a career more often. This observation suggests that social and cultural capital are subject to a process of accumulation and compounding that favors early entry into hip-hop as a life course trajectory successfully transferring capital into a career as a cultural producer.

Findings indicate the importance of performing work on oneself to increase one’s capacities and knowledge was emphasized due to the specialized nature of hip-hop cultural production. Digital media, such as tutorials and other sources of knowledge concerning cultural production, were identified as a key resource for career development. Furthermore, it is revealed

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that technical and productive skills such as music composition and audio engineering, rather than artistry, are centrally important types of capital relevant to a career in hip-hop cultural production. Among those participants whose capital transferred to a career in hip-hop cultural production, having ownership of the means of cultural production, namely a recording environment, was universal. This indicates that a certain degree of economic capital must be expended to facilitate a professional career.

A number of key barriers for transferring capital into a career in hip-hop cultural production were also identified. First, late onset for music participation or entry into hip-hop cultural production was indicated to be a foundational handicap for non-transfer participants. A lack of social and cultural capital, or its misuse, was a secondary feature among the non-transfer group. In general, non-transfer participants had lower levels of education, lower access to social networks involved in artistic fields, and less experience within the field of hip-hop cultural production. Additionally, incarceration is established as a key impediment to establishing a career in hip-hop cultural production due to its disruptive and destructive impact on the maintenance and development of necessary social and cultural resources.

These findings challenge assumptions that attempting a hip-hop career will routinely result in upward mobility. Hip-hop, along with sports and other forms of entertainment, is typically portrayed as a way of ‘making it’ for African Americans. These perceptions reinforce and reproduce prevailing attitudes towards occupational success in contemporary American discourse, specifically the individualistic cultural focus centered on the principles of drive, motivation, ambition, hard work, and talent. These perceptions downplay other social structural factors such racial disadvantages in the possession and accumulation of cultural and social capital.

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This study highlights the structural relevance in the accumulative and compounding impacts of cultural capital offered by family and community background. Additionally, this study adds to the body of research investigating the relationship between race, social class, and social capital. While links between social class, race and capitalization have been documented previously, this study provides narrative detail as to what this correlation ‘looks like’ for African

Americans operating within cultural production fields that are considered almost exclusively black.

Furthermore, examination into the relation between the various forms of capital and hip- hop cultural production highlights how hip-hop fails to provide a voice for all African

Americans. Instead, hip-hop functions as one possible means of expression among many options for African Americans with more privileged backgrounds conducive to securing and accumulating cultural, social, and economic capital. The vast majority of African Americans, structurally disadvantaged in terms of capital in a general sense, and specifically undercapitalized in resources applicable to the field of hip-hop cultural production, are largely unqualified to participate in an artistic form that allegedly ‘speaks’ for them.

CONTRIBUTIONS

This project contributes to a number of interests within sociology and cultural studies concerning the relationships between species of capital, the cultural production of hip-hop, and the continued harsh realities of structural inequality. Contextualizing hip-hop cultural production as an artistic career requiring the exercise of capital provides additional analytical depth to the study of hip-hop culture as a whole. This investigation of the social structure of hip-hop cultural production reveals that hip-hop is sociologically interesting beyond the content of its lyrics or

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stylized presentation, due to the influence of racial and class inequalities on its cultural production. While the consumption of the symbolic meanings of hip-hop remains an important topic of inquiry, examination of the deeper structural influences within the field of hip-hop cultural production allows for innovative descriptions and understandings of subordinated groups constructing meaning within popular culture.

Perhaps most importantly, this project explores Bourdieu’s theory of capital within the field of cultural production across several key areas. First, this study provides a description of the social world of hip-hop cultural production as it relates to social capital, cultural capital, economic capital, and subcultural capital. Secondly, the project examined capital over the life course of hip-hop cultural producers. In particular, mothers were identified as a critical source of capital for the hip-hop career. Third, the strategies used by hip-hop cultural producers in accumulating and using capital were identified and described. Fourth, this study also clarifies the relationship between subcultural capital and hip-hop cultural production. Fifth, this study explored the role of social class in accumulating capital for the hip-hop career. Sixth, the project examined tensions between hip-hop cultural production and deviance. Lastly, this project described the negative impact incarceration can have for developing and maintaining the capital necessary for a career in hip-hop cultural production.

First, this study provides description of the largely independent, freelance, and small- scale cultural production made possible by modern technology that was unavailable and in many ways unthinkable when Bourdieu developed his theories of cultural production. Broadly considered, much of the field of hip-hop cultural production exists independently from the professional music industry, functioning as a type of “cottage industry” for its participants.

Therefore, these findings update and provide nuance to a theory of cultural production that

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largely described a field which was previously institutionalized, industrialized, and had near total ownership of the means of cultural production. In this manner the findings provide evidence of alternative means for communicating and acquiring cultural capital, means which Bourdieu could not have conceived of nearly forty years ago.

This study also contributes to a broader understanding of the differing roles involved in hip-hop cultural production. Prior studies, such as by Asante (2008), Clay (2013; 2003), and

Collins (2006), have largely focused on the MC role, an understandable position given the public visibility of leading hip-hop artists fulfilling that role. However, the cultural production of hip- hop also requires less visible roles such as music composers, beat writers, DJ’s, music producers, and recording engineers. Based on the findings of this study, future scholarship should consider that these ancillary roles are a more common source of a career in hip-hop cultural production than the MC role.

Secondly, this project examined the impact of capital over the life course, suggesting that a process of accumulating and compounding social and cultural capital is an integral part of becoming a cultural producer for hip-hop artists. Bourdieu (1986) notes that building cultural capital requires “…a labor of inculcation and assimilation” that “costs time,” time that must be

“invested personally by the investor” (48). While Bourdieu recognized the investment of time and effort involved in acquiring cultural capital, the findings in this study suggest that “work on oneself” (Bourdieu 1986: 48) should be understood in the context of the life course, as its timing can be pivotal. It is possible that the timing of cultural capital acquisition during the life course, such as acquisition in early childhood or adolescence, performs a significant mediating effect on capital accumulation.

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In regards to early capitalization for hip-hop cultural production, the importance of mothers cannot be understated. This study suggests that the influence of mothers on the early accumulation of capital was profound. This finding is ironic considering the negative portrayals of women, particularly black women, in hip-hop. This irony arguably avoids self-contradiction, however, as many hip-hop artists venerate motherhood while simultaneously demonstrating significant misogyny towards women.

Thirdly, the findings provide an account for how different cultural and social resources are harnessed and exercised in the pursuit of a hip-hop career. The findings therefore provide context and lived descriptions for the strategies that Bourdieu suggests, but without providing empirical examples. This current research suggests that securing a career in hip-hop necessarily involves assembling social, cultural, and economic capital, an assemblage that is wielded in a calculated, specialized fashion suitable for work within that cultural production field. It is noteworthy that the strategies described by the participants for navigating the field of hip-hop cultural production closely mirror conventional practices for pursuing returns on capital. That is true even though hip-hop is an artistic form associated with countercultural and subterranean values, and therefore an artistic form typically positioning itself in opposition to conventional social norms.

Fourth, in addition to contributing to Bourdieusian scholarship on capital, this project also provides insight into subcultural capital (Thornton 1996; 1995). Thornton’s concept of subcultural capital explored the details of taste culture within the British rave scene. In her study,

Thornton accounts for the utilization of capital unique to that particular subculture. Participants in the British rave subculture were predominately white and middle class and had elected membership in that particular social group. In many ways, Thornton’s (1996; 1995) participants

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were representative of the dominant culture in Britain, despite being part-time members in a youth-oriented, musical subculture.

Subcultural capital for African Americans, however, may not carry the same value and transferability as the cultural capital of more privileged groups. It is likely outside of specific subcultural contexts that subcultural capital from subordinate groups has little or negligible value. In comparison to Thornton’s subcultural group, the hip-hop subculture is naturally positioned in opposition to the dominant culture reflecting African American subordination in the United States. As a cultural form created by a racially oppressed minority, the hip-hop subculture may value a form of capital that has little value in white-dominated mainstream culture. Further diminishing the transferability of subcultural capital is the disagreement of what is valued within the subculture. Given the varied and changing evolution of hip-hop’s styles, codes, and attitudes, the existence of a single subcultural capital within this community is unlikely. Instead, there are differing accounts of which skills and resources are useful and what attributes confer status amongst hip-hop aficionados. Such variations in matters of definition and meaning amongst members of the hip-hop community potentially prevent subcultural capital from having the kind of marketability and transferability into economic capital that is observed with cultural capital. As a consequence, the subcultural capital that hip-hop artists draw from, and hip-hop practitioners who are racial minorities, are constrained in many racially structured ways that Thornton’s subcultural capital and subcultural participants were not.

It is noteworthy that success in hip-hop cultural production is likely similar to success in other genres of music, despite significant stylistic differences, in that it relies upon similar cultivation and strategic use of capital. Despite these similarities, African Americans wanting to participate in cultural production, however, may have less access to the necessary capital, owing

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to their racial subordination. This makes the study of hip-hop cultural production unique compared to the study of other types of media, which are typically created and performed by members of privileged groups with more ready access to capital. These other forms of cultural products may be further privileged by presenting symbolic meanings that reaffirm, rather than counter, dominant societal messages.

While it is important to be aware of the stylistic codes of ‘hipness’ as a cultural producer, this cultural taste, when isolated from other forms of capital, fails to provide sufficient resources to compete within the field of production in ways that cultural, social, or economic capital enable. Initially it seemed likely that subcultural capital might play a central role in the formation of a career in hip-hop cultural production. Upon analysis, however, subcultural capital is revealed to be a necessary, but quite insufficient, basis upon which to build a hip-hop career.

Consequently, extrapolating from this study, subcultural capital should not be understood as a resource in the ways that other species of capital are. Instead, subcultural capital may only serve to rank and order members within a particular subculture, with little or no effect on social position or economic opportunity within the larger culture.

Fifth, this project examines the impact of social class on African Americans in regards to capital and the hip-hop career. The inability of subcultural capital to transfer to economic capital within the hip-hop career underscores the importance of social capital and cultural capital for occupational success overall. While African Americans are undercapitalized as a group (Yosso

2005), access to capital amongst this group is individually differentiated on the basis of social class and other background circumstances (Young 1999; Wilson 1978). Thus, due to their capitalization, some hip-hop cultural producers are more privileged than others to compete

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within this field. Individuals rich in social, cultural, and economic capital may find hip-hop to be a viable and rewarding career.

This finding echoes Poshke’s (2012) observation that entrepreneurial occupations, such as hip-hop cultural production, are typically only pursued by highly capitalized persons who are presented with diminished occupational choices. Specifically, the field of hip-hop cultural production provides entrepreneurial opportunities for those equipped to take advantage of the growth of digital media platforms and increased access to recording tools. Online distribution networks provide hip-hop cultural producers the ability to promote and sell their artistic products, forge industry connections, and manage their career, even if they work outside of the corporate music industry. Success within hip-hop cultural production rests upon conventional types of capital that may also be transferred into other types of careers outside of hip-hop. In this way, hip-hop cultural production may provide more than just a feeling of racial authenticity

(Jackson 2001), but also a pathway to conventional success in unrelated, but similarly capitalized, career paths.

Sixth, this project provides additional perspective on the relationships between hip-hop and deviance. This is notably evident in the participant’s strategy to achieve a legitimate career in hip-hop cultural production through illegal means, such as by selling narcotics to garner the economic capital for launching their chosen career. This strategy mirrors Merton’s (1938) concept of innovative deviance, in which individuals denied access to the legitimate means for success employ illegal or deviant methods for achieving the legitimate, even obligatory goal of material success. However, given the mixed outcomes for participants attempting to transfer black market economic capital into a successful hip-hop cultural production career, this approach

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appears to be less successful than the legitimate pathway of cultivating and nurturing conventional social and cultural capital.

This study also provides additional insight regarding the indebtedness of hip-hop to elements of the African American social life chronicled in The Code of the Street (Anderson

1999). Beer (2012), Asante (2008), and Baldwin (1999) have noted that the symbolic content and meaning of hip-hop is largely facilitated through the code of the street, with its emphasis on subcultural varieties of respect and violence. This study suggests, however, that the attributes required for successful hip-hop cultural production rest upon acquisition of mainstream resources and capacities. This tension, between subcultural values of the code of the street, on the one hand, and conventional capital, on the other, undergirds the hip-hop cultural production process.

The occupational field of hip-hop cultural production does not necessarily reward artists who are undercapitalized in cultural and social capital, regardless of their subcultural skills and tastes for translating the code of the street into cultural products.

Lastly, the findings of this study suggest that incarceration has a preventative or destructive impact on the hip-hop career in ways that mirrors its effects in other occupational fields. Although deviant labels such as having a criminal record are occasionally celebrated in hip-hop lyrics, this “mark” (Pager 2003) of a criminal record appears to impede or prevent hip- hop cultural production careers with a similarly negative outcome. Although incarceration may not stigmatize hip-hop cultural producers in ways that make them unemployable, imprisonment often destroys the capital or serves as a barrier to accumulating the capital needed to transfer into a hip-hop career. The high rates of imprisonment among African Americans (Alexander 2010;

Petit and Western 2004), therefore has adverse effects for employment extends beyond conventional occupations, extending into entrepreneurial job fields including hip-hop.

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In conclusion, despite hip-hop’s reputation as an artistic form that provides voice to all

African Americans, the need to bring prior capital into hip-hop cultural production privileges more capitalized members while largely excluding persons who are the most structurally disadvantaged by racial subordination. While relevant theory is unclear on whether subcultural capital held by a racial minority would be transferable into economic capital, the findings of this study suggest an answer to this question.

The fact that African American and hip-hop subcultural capital has a marginal value in terms of transferability into economic capital challenges observations from Clay (2003),

Harrison (2008), and Kraemer (2005) that marketable displays of African American cultural capital and embodying the street are central factors for achieving success in hip-hop. For individuals lacking a background rich in capital, the likelihood of succeeding in hip-hop cultural production may be as remote as the likelihood of achieving success in other, conventional occupational fields that also rely upon amassing mainstream capital, regardless of the subcultural capital aspiring hip-hop artists are able to put on display.

Although this study focused on the roles of capital in the cultural production of hip-hop, it also illustrates the challenges faced by the African American community in regards to occupational success overall. Within the field of hip-hop cultural production many aspiring artists lack the degree of cultural, social, and economic capital needed for success even though hip-hop is popularly understood as a career that privileges African Americans. Individuals lacking capital are unlikely to find success as a hip-hop cultural producer. While hip-hop could be positioned as one possible avenue out of the historically poor conditions of African

Americans, many aspiring artists will struggle for lack of capital. Rather than a career opportunity, for the truly disadvantaged among the disadvantaged, the field of hip-hop cultural

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production presents yet another glass ceiling that has been built from the same structural inequalities governing mainstream society.

LIMITATIONS

There are three key limitations in this study: (a) the limited geographical scope, (b) the inclusion of only male participants, and (c) the limited success of the participants as hip-hop cultural producers. First, all of the participants are residents of Ohio, United States, a state that is far removed from the professional hip-hop music industry. It is anticipated that if such data were collected from individuals around metropolitan areas strongly associated with the professional music industry or featuring a national-level hip-hop scene, such as New York City, Atlanta, or

Los Angeles, then social capital, particularly professional social networks, would be more important. Furthermore, such participants may have had increased access to cultural capital, facilitating a career as a hip-hop cultural producer.

A second limitation is that all of the participants were male. Although the field of hip-hop cultural production can be largely characterized as male-dominated, this should not diminish recognition of the contributions of women or transgender persons on the development and direction of hip-hop. Due to the lack of female participants the results of this study do not capture the experiences of women or transgendered persons within the field of hip-hop cultural production.

Lastly, it must be acknowledged that this study largely engaged participants with limited success as hip-hop cultural producers. While two of the participants have been, or currently are, associated with the professional music industry, the other participants are independent cultural producers not associated with the institutional music industry. Thus, the experiences of more successful hip-hop artists largely fall outside the scope of this study.

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RECOMMENDATIONS FOR FUTURE RESEARCH

Future research investigating the relationship between the species of capital and hip-hop cultural production can progress in four substantive areas: (a) widening the geographical recruitment of participants, (b) examining how capital functions for women and transgender artists in hip-hop, (c) recruiting more successful hip-hop artists, and (d) employing quantitative methods or making fuller use of mixed methodology.

The first subject of future research would incorporate key geographical locations that are closely aligned with the professional hip-hop cultural production industry. It is hypothesized that social capital would increase in quantity and quality in locations such as Atlanta, New York City, and Los Angeles due to the presence of the music industry and established hip-hop celebrities.

Future research involving centers of the music industry may also potentially reveal different patterns of capital that may better foster a career in hip-hop cultural production.

Secondly, future investigations should incorporate the experiences of women and transgender artists within the field of hip-hop cultural production. The addition of gender and sexuality into an examination of how capital functions in hip-hop cultural production potentially addresses long-standing questions concerning internecine inequality, such as homophobia, heteronormativity, and toxic masculinity within the field of hip-hop cultural production.

Another avenue for research would be to recruit more successful hip-hop cultural producers for participation. While the current study examines independent and freelance hip-hop producers and provides a ‘street view’ of cultural production, a study incorporating more successful artists and producers operating within the professional music industry could potentially investigate the inner functions of the cultural production industry. It is anticipated that

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such a study would describe and analyze the increased importance of economic capital within the field of professional hip-hop cultural production.

Lastly, a study employing a more robust quantitative methodology to analyze and model the impact of the species of capital on the cultural production of hip-hop will potentially uncover and estimate the strength of associations among these factors. It is hoped that such a study would successfully quantify the importance of different species of capital, longitudinally examine the accumulative and compounding tendency of capital, and establish the significance or non- significance of other various factors identified in this study.

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Appendix I

List of Participants

Name* Age Location Role Education Occupation Alex 33 Cleveland MC Attending college Unemployed Andre 24 Cleveland MC GED Unemployed Arthur 36 Cleveland MC/Producer High school Shipping/producing Brandon 24 Columbus MC Some college Martial arts instruction Braxton 38 Cincinnati MC/Producer Some college Producer/promotion Calvin 32 Cleveland MC High school Retail industry Christian 23 Columbus MC Less than high school Electrician Curtis 19 Cincinnati MC/Producer Attending college Producing/promotion Daniel 22 Cincinnati MC GED Food service Darrel 24 Columbus MC/Producer Some college Producer De'Ante 34 Cincinnati MC/Producer High school Security Supervisor Hank 29 Cleveland MC Some college Manufacturing industry James 36 Cleveland MC/Producer High school Producer Jordan 24 Toledo MC High school Parks and recreation Kennan 37 Akron MC Less than high school Unemployed Lawrence 32 Cleveland MC Associates degree Acting/healthcare Lester 28 Akron MC/Producer Some college Producer Max 27 Cleveland MC/Producer High school Retail industry Miles 31 Cincinnati MC/Producer High school Unemployed Nate 29 Akron MC High school Janitorial Orlando 29 Cleveland MC/Producer High school Producer Quinten 23 Cincinnati MC High school Promotion/booking Rhyland 28 Akron MC/Producer Some college Unemployed Rich 27 Toledo Producer High school Producer Robert 30 Akron Producer/DJ High school Shipping industry Sonny 21 Akron MC/Producer Some college Job training Tayvon 45 Cincinnati MC/Producer Bachelors degree Promotion/booking Trey 25 Toledo MC/Producer Some college Producer/promotion William 28 Cincinnati MC Less than high school Unemployed Xavier 27 Cleveland MC Less than high school Cook *Note: all participant names and potentially identifying information have been modified

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Appendix II

Interview Guide

BACKGROUND

To start out, tell me about your personal history and background:

• How old are you?

• Where were you born?

• Because this is a social study, details about a person’s race or ethnicity are important.

How do you describe yourself racially or ethnically?

• Tell me about where you work at.

• Describe some of the most important experiences you had growing up.

Tell me a little bit about your family:

• Tell me about your parents’ education.

• Tell me about your father’s work history and occupation

• Tell me about your mother’s work history and occupation.

• Do you have siblings? How many? What are their ages compared to yours? Did you get

along growing up? Do you see your siblings nowadays?

Tell me about your education:

• Where did you attend grade school?

• Describe your participation in school-related activities there, like sports, or other school

organizations?

• Where did you attend middle school?

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• Describe your participation in school activities at that time.

• Where did you attend high school?

• Describe your participation in school activities at that time.

Have you attended college?

• If yes, where? What years?

• If yes, what field did you study? (Major/minor)

• If yes, did you graduate?

• If yes, in what field of study did you graduate? What level?

• If no, what happened?

Tell me about your religious participation:

• How often did you attend religious services? Describe these services.

• Was music part of your religious activities? If so, describe these experiences.

Lastly, and you can choose not to answer this question, can you tell me about any interactions you have had with the criminal justice system, such as being arrested or having a criminal record?

• If yes, tell me what was the outcome?

• If yes, can you tell me what impact you believe this had on your hip-hop career?

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MUSIC TRAINING

Please tell me about your musical background:

• How many years have you been creating music?

• How did you get started? What event or influences made you decide to pursue creating

hip-hop yourself?

• Describe how important or unimportant music was in your household growing up.

• Did anyone in your family, like your parents or siblings, play musical instruments?

• Were there musical instruments in your home growing up?

Do you play any musical instruments?

• If yes, what instrument? How long?

• If yes, have you studied music theory?

• If yes, where at? Formally or informally?

• If yes, how did you come to be involved with playing musical instruments?

• If yes, have you ever been a member of a group or band?

• If yes, which band or bands?

• If yes, for how long?

• If yes, what did you think about playing in this band?

• If no, how come?

Did any of your schools have a music program? Were you involved?

• If yes, describe your experiences in this program.

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Did any of your schools have a drama program? Were you involved?

• If yes, describe your experiences in this program.

Have you ever taken music lessons?

• If yes, describe your experiences in this program.

Have you ever taken singing lessons?

• If yes, describe your experiences in this program.

Have you ever taken dance lessons?

• If yes, describe your experiences with this.

Audio production and music are difficult to learn. Let’s talk about where and how you acquired your skills.

• Where did you learn your musical and production skills?

• Did you attend a school or university to learn audio or music production?

• If yes, where did you attend? For how many years? Do you have a degree?

• Did you undergo a music apprenticeship or internship?

• If yes, where at? Was this a commercial recording studio? Which engineers did you study

under?

What is your view on music education? Is it important for what you are doing now (music production)?

230

Did you have any mentors that assisted you in learning music production?

• If yes, tell me about them.

Did you have any mentors that assisted you in learning music performance?

• If yes, tell me about them.

What was your family’s reaction to your involvement with music?

How did the people around you support or not support your music ambitions?

HIP-HOP CULTURE

What does hip-hop mean to you?

Where do you believe hip-hop "comes from"?

What are the ideal qualities for a hip-hop artist?

What artist do you feel best encompasses what hip-hop is "all about"?

Describe what you consider to be "real" hip-hop. Describe what a "real" hip-hop artist is like.

Describe what you consider to be "fake" hip-hop. Describe what a "fake" hip-hop artist would be like to you.

231

In your opinion, what does it mean to be "respected" as a hip-hop artist?

Are there other types of music besides hip-hop that you enjoy? What are these? Describe how these other types of music influence or do not influence your hip-hop music.

HIP-HOP CREATION

How long have you been actively creating hip-hop music?

• What do you consider to be your best achievement so far?

• Describe your biggest setback in creating hip-hop so far.

What does creating hip-hop mean to you? How does it make you feel?

Do you work primarily alone or with other people?

• If work primarily alone, why do you work by yourself? Would you want to work with

other people?

• If work with other people, can you describe your relationship with these other people?

How many music releases, such as singles or albums, have you put out?

• Do you use the Internet to release your music? If so, describe this.

• Do you print “hard” copies of your releases, such as CD’s or albums? Tell me about this.

Describe your "writing process" for composing music.

232

• If the artist does not write their own music, where do you get the music (beats) for your

songs?

• If the artist does write their own music, do you ever use other music composers’ or beat

writers’ music as well?

Describe your lyrical "writing process."

• If the artist does not write their own lyrics, where do you get the lyrics for your music?

Music creation often focuses on the types of equipment being used. What gear do you currently have?

• If no, why not?

• If yes, what computer software do you use?

• If yes, what hardware do you use?

• If yes, how much do you estimate you’ve spent on music equipment over the years?

How do you record your music?

• If yes, describe this recording place. Is it a professional recording studio?

• If yes, how much time do you spend in the studio to record a single song?

• If yes, describe your approach to recording your music.

Describe how you promote your music and make other people aware of you as an artist.

• Do you use social media to promote your music? Tell me about this.

• Do you use the radio? Describe this.

233

• Have you ever taken out advertisements in magazines or newspapers? Describe this.

• Do you use music promoters? Tell me about this.

• Do you play live shows? Describe these shows.

• Describe the other ways you promote your music?

What collaborations ("collabs") have you participated in?

• If yes, are these collaborations local?

• If yes, describe your experiences with collaborating.

Describe your relationship with the local hip-hop scene?

• First, how would you describe the local hip-hop scene?

• Next, where do you see yourself in this local scene?

Which promoters or club owners do you work with?

• If yes, tell me about this relationship.

What contacts within the professional music industry do you have?

• If yes, please describe these relationships.

• If no, what relationships would you like to have?

Describe what live shows or concerts you've played.

• If yes, what other hip-hop acts have you played live with?

234

Which groups or organizations related to music or hip-hop are you a member of?

• If yes, describe your participation in these groups.

How do you finance your hip-hop music creation?

What is the most money you've made in hip-hop?

Describe how online activities, social media, or the Internet figures into your hip-hop activities.

Describe how having a reputation as a “gangster” impacts a hip-hop career?

FUTURE

If you could go back in time to when you first got started producing music and give yourself some advice what would it be?

What advice would you give to a new person that was interested in creating hip-hop or being a hip-hop artist?

Where do you see hip-hop in the future, such as five years from now? Ten years?

235

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