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Robbing Hood

Re-appropriation of an African-American ‘keeping it real’ in hip-hop through the sampling of films, during times of glocalization and appropriation

Stef Mul 10523537 Erik Laeven Second reader: Catherine Lord Word Count: 17.936

PREFACE Hip-hop is, and has from the very first beat, rhyme and dance, been a culture with a certain narrative. One that for purists and originators might be seen as lead astray in a globalizing circus of commercialization and remediation of itself, handing this hip-hop narrative over to people, who do not stem from the streets of suburban and of African-American decent, initially, as well as Latin- Americans and other ethnic minorities living in these same neighborhoods. Hip- hop artists are often anxious to defend its own original ethnical and socio- geographical confines. “First there was African ,” Ahmir “Questlove” Thompson firmly states in his book about his life as a hip-hop artist – among other things. “You know how Public Enemy says, in “Can’t Truss It,” that they came from “the base motherland, the place of the drums”? Africa, that’s the place they’re talking about,” quoting the hip-hop moguls, formed in 1986 (9). If one feels like subscribing to these thoughts, they might agree on the idea that the authentic culture of hip-hop stems from 1970 to 1979 and is interwoven with a great deal of African heritage. This was “before hip-hop was “commercialized” in the form of recordings,” according to some of the firmest purist fans, artists and scientists out there (Justin A. Williams, 22). Thus, there seems to be a strong, yet troubling liaison with notions of ‘being original’ or ‘authentic’ coded deep inside hip-hops own genes, that gets more and more troublesome after hip-hops is spreading and being appropriated around the world, in several cultures, media and lifestyles. Furthermore, this entanglement gets a paradoxical turn when one takes into account hip-hop’s appropriative use of other material as mode of artistic expression, being the samples of music, textual or musical interpolation and other multimedia references, both intra- and extra-musical. However, it was the same “commercialization” that brought the hip-hop culture to a European man from the . I am historically and demographically – and ethnically – unfit to act up as a purist, as I only got to listen to and learn from the already “commercialized” version of a re-cultured hip-hop community. But from this very same distance I got to learn about how the seminal quartet of hip-hop – , breakdance, DJ-ing and MC-ing – together embrace the notions of a cultural heritage, authenticity and nostalgia into a shared experience that transcends the musical aspect. 21st Century

2 globalized hip-hop is now mostly associated and rhyming, being the most distinguishable aspect of the (musical) culture when compared to other . It is being mostly sold around the world as a mere musical experience, without any other cultural substance or historical value, with solely the rappers on the forefront as the big stars. I myself, being late to the block party, have also had a predominantly auditory hip-hop experience, falling in love with the after many auditory encounters. However, quickly it also started to speak directly to my visual imagination, through the words and, moreover, a seemingly infinite variety of samples that added a certain kind of image to the narrative on tape. It was a first grasp on hip-hop’s modes of communication an introduction to its power to speak on behalf of the people living in the culture, coming from a non-white (and predominantly black) lineage and growing up in poor socio- economical situations. Not only through the graffiti on the walls and the provocative imagery of a break-dancer, but also through its quotations of so many other media-expressions, hip-hop expresses itself as an intrinsically audiovisual hodgepodge of mythological proportions, to tell the story of those in this minority position. I never considered it an accident that, while hip-hop was straying away from “to folks who had never heard of rap or hip-hop”, already two films were made (Jeff Chang, 132). Through Wild Style (1982) and (1983) flows a highly determined desire to show, tell and express. To show whom they are, where they come from and which conditions brought about their cultural expressions – almost as if they knew what hip-hop was going to be; to already establish grounds for authenticity. “Frequently cited as the most accurate representation of the early hip-hop period, (…) [and] though filmed in 1981, Wild Style is considered the quintessential hip-hop film because it sought to capture the energy of prerecording, pre-1979 hip-hop,” Justin A. Williams honorably describes the film (26). But it is not only literally in film that the hip- hop cultural has a visual voice, but the music itself also borrows from cinematic modes of communication. Sometimes long intermezzos between , directly quote whole sequences of films, dialogue gets intermingled with the or the melody of a soundtrack is reshuffled, and formed into a new beat. In what auditory fashion are the films integrated in hip-hop songs, what meaning do the film samples bear in the greater hip-hop narrative and how does it add up to the

3 notions of authenticity, as well as the paradoxical liaison with appropriation? These are the questions this thesis seeks to answer. The intermingling of film and hip-hop has never escaped my mind and interests, it being just as much part of this discussion on authenticity, sampling and appropriation, as it is left out of scientific texts on the matter. After years of trying to canonize hip-hop’s entire discography – a seeming impossibility – and a great desire to discover the origins of the samples, I found a staggering amount of films, put to use in several ways of sampling. Hence, the reason for this thesis, as an open exploration into the realm of hip-hop, and it’s discourse, as well as it’s tendency therein to include film, especially films that are not part of the African-American anthology. I feel obliged to carry out a disclaimer, acknowledging the fact that I am probably appropriating and framing myself, by talking about this distant culture. However, I think, and will hopefully prove as trustworthy, that the amount of non-African- American film samples is evident and interesting enough, to examine. Also, any potential misconceptions of things will be avoided to my power. Even though I am aware of my white, European (pre-)conditions, I feel like it is important to at least give it a try and possibly hand over some exploratory work on film samples that one might take into further research.

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CONTENT Preface 1. Taking back what is not yours 1.1 Re-Appropriation authenticity 1.2 A Hip-Hop Origin Story: keeping what real? 1.3 Corpus - Threefold of film genres 2. Postcolonial framework: introducing… 2.1 (Re-)appropriation: keeping it real 2.2 Meaningful borrowing: sampling or appropriating 2.3 Glocalization: a global narrative 3. Methodology 4. Analysis: Film-reels to keep it real 4.1 Tales from the Hood – lyrical depictions 4.2 Images and sounds from around the world 4.3 Film-reels to keep it real The Black Soprano Family Afrofuturism: re-appropriating history 5. In conclusion – Japsploitation appropriation Reference guide Filmography Discography Appendix

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1. Taking back what is not yours

Lupin III is the illegitimate grandson of the anarchist antihero Arsène Lupin.1 Still, he stays true to his family origin: he is a grandmaster and gentleman-like thief. As contradictory as it sounds, this means that he holds up an admirable reputation, while stealing ”rather for the love of his art than to acquire wealth,” which gives him “a certain moral legitimacy when he relieves [dubious figures] of their ill-gotten gains” (, 114). The respected rebel steals from those who do not fully appreciate or rightfully appropriated their wealth, making him a Robin Hood-like character full of moral and political potential. From his origin on paper, Lupin III went on to have a prolific career, with thirty- eight films and different series. Lupin III also appears to be of some inspiration to African-American hip-hop artists, as different parts of its soundtrack by and his Explosion Band2 are being sampled. Acknowledging the supposition that hip-hop’s sampling often bears certain meaning or critique, why then does this sample of a Japanese occur in this African-American part of hip-hop’s culture? Which cultural and global developments might cause hip-hop artists to use Lupin III’s music as the base of their songs? As such, Lupin III is the starting point and most salient object of this thesis on hip-hop’s relation with film-samples. What does this Japanese cartoon character tell about a hip- hop’s notion of ‘keeping it real’ and appropriation?

1.1 (Re-)Appropriating Authenticity The more hip-hop’s culture gets glocalized and universally commodified, the lesser the claim of “keeping it real”, as a authentic ground of a relatively local inner-circle, is expressed through African-American centered sampling – a form of appropriation.3 In this thesis it also taken as a well-known

1 A fictional created by the French writer in the 2 The references to the various LP’s that are sampled can be found in the textual analysis. 3 The paradox of appropriation (2.1), the notion of ‘keeping it real’ (2.2), and the concept of glocalization (2.3) are deepened in the next chapter.

6 fact that hip-hop in its entirety is no longer just an expression of a singular group of (mostly African-)American minorities, because of the same process of glocalization. Taking a small look in online communities, other media, the music charts in countries all over the world and even just a look outside, on the streets of various international cities, will affirm the latter. Hip-hop culture spread from the African-American and Latino urban areas, to the white suburbs and, eventually, worldwide. “With the meteoric growth of hip-hop culture, rap moved beyond urban streets to the headphones of suburban white America” (McLeod Jr., 123). However, “global spread of hip-hop authenticity provides an example of the tension between a cultural dictate to keep it real and the processes that make this dependent on local contexts, languages, cultures and understandings of the real” (Pennycook, 101). The tensive contradiction between a specific way to ‘keep it real’ and effects of glocalization will be the overarching theme of this research on hip-hop culture. Specifically, the research will done on the basis of a close analysis of film samples, both through sound and imagery. Hip-hop’s notion of ‘keeping it real’4 and its reaction on being glocalized, thus no longer being socio-spatially bound to one geographic and demographic, is often treated in a discussion of appropriation by the Other – often meaning ‘everyone who is not African-American’. Discussions and texts on this matter largely revolve around the appropriation of language and appearance by other local cultures or white Americans. Examples are texts on white hip-hoppers (C. Cutler, 2003), Australian hip-hop subculture (T. Mitchell, 2003; D. Arthur, 2006) or the acquisition of the African-American notion to ‘represent’ by Dutch hip- hoppers (A. De Roest, 2017). Moreover, the effects on sampling habits are barely discussed. Most of the texts on sampling in hip-hop have either a basis in and technology (D’Errico, 2011; Sewell, 2013), a focus on copyright law-

4 A working definition of the ‘keeping it real’ is: staying true to the early origin of hip-hop, growing up as a minority (in practice of mostly African-American or Latino decent) in the severe circumstances of urban America. I want to stress the fact that this term is never free of problematization. It ties in to the discussion of authenticity, which in itself is a concept that is hard to grasp. Authenticity is continually under the influence of global and local cultural alterations, thus one could always question what authenticity is really authentic. However, this thesis’ goal is not to find the true definition of a ‘keeping it real’, but tries to differentiate a certain connotation of the ‘keeping it real’ from several texts.

7 making (Arewa, 2005; Evans, 2010; Norek, 2004), describe it within the context of an African diaspora (Bartlett, 1994; Perchard, 2011) or as a holistic combination of all the previous (Schloss, 2014; Williams, 2010). In addition, the sampling of film excerpts has only been described in relation to the African- American (Demers, 2003). This thesis looks to add more specific research on the effects that glocalization and global appropriation has on hip-hop’s sampling culture, and how hip-hop itself can globally appropriate through sampling. Also, this thesis will expand the theory on film- based sampling in hip-hop, taking it beyond the references to Blaxploitation genre, as is already done by Joanna Demers. The range of film-samples5 seems to be enlarged over time – as will be illustrated by various examples in the theoretical framework and textual analysis below. All of which will be verifiable online through databases. Hip-hop’s tendency to sample other cultures is indeed an act of appropriation in itself. However, in a hip-hop era of glocalization, it might also be seen as an act of re-appropriation. One to reclaim authenticity, or in the least an attempt to claim a newer variation of it, as this thesis will show how the extra-cultural samples will actually carry a fairly similar discourse to, for example, Blaxploitation-samples. The textual analysis will eventually explore how these extra-cultural samples imbed a critical connotation, as sampling potentially is, and always has been, a sly comment on the misappropriation of “their” culture, just as much as it is an ode to what inspiringly came before them – but is no longer necessarily mainly African-American culture. Therefore, I propose the following hypothesis:

African-American hip-hop artists use samples of non-African-American films – a form of appropriation – to reinforce an origin story, while criticizing the extra- cultural appropriation of their own cultural dictate, ‘the keeping it real’.

As such, this thesis will put the underexplored element of sampling film as a mode of expression in the hip-hop culture against a background of postcolonial notions of culture, authenticity as identity and especially the paradox of

5 This thesis will from here on in use ‘sampling’ in a both visual and auditory sense

8 appropriation, in which appropriation is going both ways. I will show how this two-directional appropriation causes sampling to expand from quotations of the African-American musical predecessors – , soul and – to more different cultural borrowings. Taking the sampling of film as a specific research object makes is possible to a) use image and auditory borrowing to support and proof the hypothesis and b) shed light on the underexplored connection between film and hip-hop, on which not a lot of research seems to exist.

1.2 A Hip-Hop Origin Story: keeping what real? What is there to be ‘kept real’? To which actual heritage do I refer as the origin story? I will not elaborate extensively on a historical background of hip-hop, because this is not a historical research, and others have done so extensively and correspondingly. However, a little reminiscing might be crucial to determine a distinction between a possible ‘authentic’ hip-hop and a newer, post- glocalization hip-hop, spread out from its conceiving borders. There can be no doubt about the exact place of birth. Texts in various contexts refer back to a day in 1973, where three of hip-hop’s four pillars of MC-ing (rapping), DJ-ing and breakdancing6 came together on a block party in , New York (Chang, 2007; Condry, 2006 Schloss, 2004; Williams, 2013; etc.). This very specific spatial origin tells how a very clear group of people in very unequivocal circumstances were involved. In America’s unequally segregated society, its urban inhabitants were African-American or Latino, with barely an exception. “Hip-hop was begat in one of the poorest and most crime-ridden jurisdictions in the . (…) It was a place of a desperate, hard-knock creativity, as evidenced by the way its citizens talked, dressed, and danced” (Butler, 989). These facts account for an evident origin and constitute the basis of the African- American hip-hop experience, being the most original hip-hop culture. Moreover, it became part of the African diaspora. Much of its defining pillars, like rapping and appropriating modes like sampling, “were already a part of the complex cultural roots, and routes, of African American history” (Morgan & Bennett, 181). Even now, while “[hip-hop] has undergone radical transformation during this

6 The other pillar being graffiti art.

9 movement from street to international marketplace, it has retained a critical capacity to convey a signifying blackness of aesthetic form and emotive force. (…) [Hip-hop] continues to articulate a “black”, largely masculine urban discourse of marginality” (Perry, 635). This is not to say that hip-hop’s spread to different localities in this world always is an ill-spirited appropriation of an African-American culture, as it “has empowered young people of all socioeconomic backgrounds all over the world” (Morgan & Bennett, 177). New local hip-hop movements have earned their rightful place in hip-hop, or at least in its musical culture. However, many books and texts look into a “juxtaposition of whiteness and ”, for example Everything But the Burden: What White People are Taking from Black Culture (Tate), Other People’s Property: A Shadow History of Hip-Hop in White America (Tanz) and “Hip-hop realness and the white performer” (Hess) (Harrison, 1784). These titles and their researches expose how there is not just a hypodermic but also an actual distrust towards certain forms of appropriation by the Other. A distrust, palpable enough to test notions of authenticity – the ‘keeping it real’ that is “put forth by black people in an effort to secure hip hop as distinctly their own” – on suspicions of white privilege and other wrongful appropriation (Harrison, 1784). The previous might be a problematic, restrictive and almost binary approach to race and even contradict hip-hop’s own allegiance to tolerance and mutual understanding. Black people in The Netherlands do not necessarily inherit the same culture as the African- American because they have the same skin color. Which point of view is your own ‘real’, depends on how much gravity you attach to origin-determinist arguments, ‘how it all started’, whether you take the artists themselves or the audiences all over the world as the definers of authenticity, and African- American or grander African diaspora as foundation (Harrison, 1786). However if it is not for skin color, thus race, one might argue that the ‘keeping it real’ in all cases accounts for those who share a certain socio-economic role in their locality. Or, how Mickey Hess explains as coming the closest to hip-hop ‘realness’, as he “emphasizes the autobiographical basis of his lyrics and his struggle to succeed as a rap artist” (373). For this thesis, the prerequisite of the ‘keeping it real’-narrative is that one comes from a American urban area, is an

10 ethnic minority and has experienced the socio-economic ‘struggle’ to which Hess refers.

1.3 Corpus – Threefold Film-Samples Plenty of texts connect the fundamental elements, like rapping, dancing or sampling, and a certain socio-economic narrative to a mostly African-American demographic. Specific studies on the meaning and origin of sampling are solely focused on notions of African-American intertextuality, like Justin A. Williams’ extensive texts on what he calls meaningful borrowing. However, the sampling of film is barely mentioned – I found only Joanna Demers’ text on sampling Blaxploitation. This thesis, as a reaction to this lack, will utilize three different types of film-samples that have been selected and verified during a research on WhoSampled (www.whosampled.com). This website is an authorative entity for those interested in intertextuality through auditory or lyrical sampling, and a large part of the website consists of hip-hop samples. As such, it acts like a community, in which its inhabitants (contributors) are on a quest to find musical connections of any sort imaginable: covers (a remake of a musical piece, but with substantial artistic newness), (official reworks, released under the original artists name; otherwise it is listed as a sample), interpolation (the clearly intentional and identifiable replaying of another original music piece) and direct samples (most relevant variation of sampling and elaborated on in the remainder of this thesis). The process of authentication is overlooked by a group of moderators, and after they grant their approval, the contributors will again be able to respond and review the validity of the discovered musical connection. In this way, a fluid and (self-)controllable database has been established, consisting of over 300.000 confirmed samples. It also shows how the intertextuality, imbedded in sampling, is not only in itself a network of connections, but also is part of a networked community, whose inhabitants are looking for corresponding sample chains and a way to affirm their positions as members of the hip-hop community. Consequently, sampling is not a mere musical expression, but an expression of membership and cultural linkage. After residing in this database for a fair amount of time, it was possible to formulate and double-check certain sample-patterns, connecting film

11 to hip-hop songs and vice versa. A short introduction to the website is written out in the appendix. In this appendix a few examples of film-samples are displayed, to quickly show the extent of this database and to offer a first peek at the versatility of hip-hop’s sampling of film. From this database I have been able to funnel two different cohesive groups of film-samples – genres if you will – and of course Lupin III’s soundtrack. Together, this threefold of film-based samples will form an accumulative argument. The first two will exhibit different meaning, which come together in the last one. Moreover, the three research objects are samples from non-African-American films. As has been described in the previous sub-chapter, this is to demonstrate how extra-cultural sampling can be a musical method to tell an intra-cultural narrative or reclaim appropriated authenticity. In addition, the inclusion of three different genres into the corpus is firstly essential to uphold versatility. Using just one form of film-samples might make a case too fragmented and isolated, to act as a solid statement. Secondly, taking a single film or genre might fall victim to the threat of being coincidental sampling. At last, and most importantly, the three forms of film-samples share the fact that they all express an internal story of hip-hop’s culture, articulated through the appropriation of a film’s narrative, as well as that it also acts as outwards commentary on the appropriation of hip-hop itself, in distant societies and by other cultural interpretations. The threefold film-samples fits in the original hip- hop narrative of the ‘keeping it real’, while all having a common denominator, being samples from non-African-American film. Furthermore, the three genres will consist of some sort of hierarchical structure, the first being focused on the intra-cultural discourse and the second adding the notion of outwardly critique to its narrative. The first two will then come together in the third sample example, being both ratification of the hypothesis, as well as an example of what might be an actual manifestation of hip-hop re-appropriating itself. The selection of the threefold film-samples will be as followed:

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Mafia Samples: The Black Soprano Family A similar breakdown of family rituals of the Italian-American mafia films, hidden inside the hip-hop aesthetic, will be executed. For example Griselda Records’ fast growing oeuvre, flooded with pop-cultural references and – literally7 – artful provocations, will be explored, sample-wise, but also through the remediation of film-stills and wordplay in titles. Especially rapper , affiliate of the Griselda ‘family’, draws inspiration from the Italian-American aesthetic, as he leads his own ‘Black Soprano Family’. Elements and themes that constitute a great deal of Italian-American stories – or at least how these are depicted in films – seem to bear relevance to members of the hip-hop culture. Dinner scenes in, for example, The Sopranos series (1999-2007) or the (1972) film relate to the embodiments of family-like ties and rituals of an African-American hip-hop group. Martin Parker breaks the focus on the feast in mafia films down: “the consumption of food is usually symbolically associated with home, leisure, or the liminal spaces and times of the work organization. (…) But what if we look at an organization in which images of the collective production and consumption of food appear to occur frequently” and meaningfully (990)? Also, the juxtaposition of a feast like this and the glorification of violence in mafia-film culture is relevant in comparison to the hip-hop culture, with its occasional violent lyrics and covers. What meaning does the appropriation of this juxtaposition of violence and family bear for the hip-hop culture – and why do they reach out to the Italian-American film to express this juxtaposition? This thesis will elaborate further on the reasons why and ways how hip- hop samples certain Mafia myths. To which extent is sampling these films and their (multi-interpretable) values, a matter of criticizing a double standard in America’s audience, or at least an attempt to internalize a similar nuance to its

7 Frontman WestsideGunn and the other affiliates hire painters and other graphic artists to make original and limited edition pieces of art that are sold next to their mixtapes.

13 discourse, adding the dimension of commentary to sampling? Is this a first step away from mere storytelling, towards a more critical connotation and a first conception of re-appropriation? In this part, I will look at more than just the samples of soundtracks or film dialogue, also taking visual quotations into account mostly evident on album covers. Sampling does not just exist to copy a story and project it on oneself, and the visual borrowing seems to enlarge sampling’s language to provoke and commentate on a certain status-quo, while impelling ones own narrative.

Sci-Fi Samples: Afrofuturism The second part of the analysis comprises of hip-hop’s exploratory relationship with works of Sci-Fi and other fantastical worlds, for example through comics and animated series. In what way are subversive elements in the Sci-Fi intermingled with hip-hop’s ambition to subvert a certain status quo? And how does quoting the fictional fit into hip-hop’s tenacity to ‘keep it real’, expressing the non-fictional hardships they grew up or are living in? However most of the Sci-Fi films often see through a white perspective and star a white lead, or are non-American altogether, taking place in, for example, Japan, this chapter will claim certain similarities in Sci-Fi’s narrative with hip-hop’s cultural discourse. In an article on VICE, Rose Eveleth conducts interviews with certain hip-hop figures, to get a grip on her presupposition that, however the “prototypical “science fiction” nerd might be portrayed as a white teenage boy, (…) the themes and struggles present in science fiction are deeply connected with those present in black culture” (Eveleth). Ideas of alienation, being foreign to your own world and a hopelessness that lies ahead in the are themes that might be found in both Sci-Fi and hip-hop. Apart from these motifs, confined to the narrative, another reason for the connection might be rooted in the real world – the inequalities in society. From its earliest inception, Sci-Fi media were considered cheap pulp, accessible for the impoverished and lower educated, referencing to, for example, “low-budget drive-in movies” or cheap pulp magazines (Disch, 2). Eveleth quotes rapper B. Dolan, as he expresses that he also thinks of it as a “natural relationship that happened because of economics. What poor people can

14 get access to is considered poor culture. So in the hood and places where poor people grew up that was comic books” (Eveleth). This socio-historical fact lines up with a firm use of futurist aesthetics in other African-American pre-hip-hop expressions, as well as one of the earliest hip-hop acts. Jazz enigma, Sun Ra and his Arkestra, from the late fifties; Parliament’s exuberant space-shows during the seventies’ post-soul movements; hip-hop patriarch Afrikaa Bambaataa’s criticism on the American society, hidden behind his outlandish wardrobe and Sci-Fi-shows: they all showed great affinity with the uncanny, unknown and fantastical. “Afrofuturist thought posits a reconciliation between an imagined disembodied, identity-free future and the embodied identity-specific past and present, which can provide a critical link through which post-soul artists can express a radical black subjectivity,” Marlo David elaborates in his text on Afrofuturism in black (697). The Afrofuturist aesthetic will be expanded and held against hip-hop samples of Sci- Fi film, through sound and imagery. It will exemplify the way in which expression of an African-American narrative is achieved through appropriation of non-African-American Sci-Fi film and also is an outward critique on society. A first few examples that solidify the presumed intermingling of hip-hop, Sci-Fi and Afrofuturism are: ’s second album winks in its cover art to a Sci-Fi aesthetic and is playfully titled ATLiens (1996). They also reserved a prominent place for Attilio Mineo’s Man In Space With Sounds, an experimental representation of “space-age tomorrow” (1962), in its title track; ’ multi-intertextually refer to several Japanese Anime, horror-flicks and Nordic mythology in their debut (2001). A different exploration will follow in chapter 4.

Lupin III sample: ‘Japsploitation’ appropriation Through these two film categories I will work towards Lupin III Particular cues and motives in film sound will be compared to the musical quotations hidden within the hip-hop song. How do the films intrinsically match the hip-hop’s narrative? This chapter will pose a correlation between, firstly, the overarching fact that Lupin III’s character is culpable of the same metaphorical theft as a sampling producer of hip-hop songs – stealing/borrowing from the well-off, to

15 provide and create for the disadvantaged. Secondly, Lupin III’s soundtrack is an overtly nod to Blaxploitation film, and its characters as well as lore is a mishmash of historical and cultural mutations. Thus, I will dig deeper into the implications of this very specific sample, to support the re-appropriation claim: hip-hop takes a part of its appropriated culture back by appropriating the appropriator. The sampled Lupin III soundtracks touch the preceding two samples, combining them into one meta-layered commentary on sampling, society and appropriation. Therefore, it is the third and last step of the stairs, heading towards the claim that African-American hip-hop utilizes non-African- American film samples, among other expressions, to reclaim authenticity in this day and age, wherein ‘their’ hip-hop is a global commodity. Re-appropriating the appropriators means remixing hip-hop’s adversative notion of authenticity once again. Lupin III has not yet been connected to hip-hop as a – besides its presence on WhoSampled as a recognized sample – and as culturally significant. Observations on the preceding two genres, as well as conclusions out of the texts on postcolonial authenticity, glocalization and meaningful borrowing, among others, will be used to establish this third genre, as the final, overarching illustration of the sampling’s capability to re-appropriate.

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2. Postcolonial Framework: introducing…

Three key concepts are evaluated beneath, as an interwoven whole of concepts that constitute the hip-hop culture. Their connection to the film samples will also be introduced. Sampling, as a mode of appropriating, and authenticity is an etymological antithesis, but seem to find synthesis in hip-hop. The concepts will have to eventually lead up to an approach of this paradox of appropriation and the reason to use films outside of the African-American cultural palette.

2.1 (Re)Appropriation: “keeping it real” Hip-hop’s conception is historically, but also socially situated in a postcolonial timeframe. Logically, the subversive endeavors of its culture are postcolonial just as much. Therefore, and maybe also thereto, hip-hop’s notion of authenticity is as diverse, as it is contradictory. Sampling, as a manner of re-using and repurposing, seems as the antithesis of an authentic act. So how do authenticity and sampling come together in a postcolonial sense, given the established fact that the mode of authenticity of ‘keeping it real’ is such a comprehensive and determinative aspect of hip-hop’s culture? Hip-hop might be the cultural assimilation of this antithesis, exhibiting the postcolonial problematization of authenticity, coming forth from the grand displacement of people during the preceding, colonial centuries. Some of those displaced and misunderstood human beings are the originators of hip-hop, being the people from African- and Latin-American, using creative force to claim an renewed agency and reclaim their own history – as described in chapter 1.2. Coming synchronically to existence with postcolonial theory and mentality, its modes of expression, as well as its subjects and subversive content, suit largely with the problems, power structures and emancipatory issues in the different postcolonial angles of study. Its narrative is also inclined to a possible postcolonial discourse, calling out for “resistance“: a resistance of the newly, or

17 not yet fully decolonized countries, but also the issues of migrants in the margins of societies, thus against the inequalities caused by the colonizers, then and now, as well as the Western-centered world-perception and historiography. This resistance can exist in the practical sense of the word, as groups take on the ruling powers by force or through political and ideological persuasions. Resistance can also refer to the “academic project of postcolonialism (…), conceptualized as resistance itself” (Jefferess, 4). The latter is more inclined to an ideological approach, criticizing colonial concepts and Western ethnocentrism, to someday eventually overcome and overthrow the human inequalities deriving from centuries of colonialism. These studies loop upon the fact that its consequences still resonate in contemporary societies, politics and human rights, thus try to remain critical on every aspect of reality we take for certain. Mari Korpela describes one of those unjust realities as colonial imagination: a patronizing, cultural definition of the colonized areas, and all of its non-Western (or non-white) population, forced upon them by the ethnocentric West. Korpela puts the colonial imagination forward as the ideological and discursive element of colonization, in comparison to a more systematic and political approach (1299). Through her study on Westerners in Varanasi, India, she firmly suggests a possibility that colonial imagination has not yet reached its postcolonial form, but instead Westerners hold on to their subjective definition of foreign authenticity, to romantically ‘appreciate [India’s] past instead of the modern present’ (1300). This is the basis of appropriation, and in this way, authenticity and ownership get yet again pilfered and re-allocated from its ‘rightful’ proprietor, as a sort of silent, possibly unconscious imperialistic backlash against postcolonial developments; appropriation. Jason Rodriguez, in relation to racial issues in a postcolonial American society, even intensifies this patronizing ideology, taking away any notion of romanticization, stating that color-blindness is the dominant racial ideology, supposedly calling out against , but does so under false pretenses – or at least, with the wrong consequences. Color-blind ideology is, what he calls, “the assertion of essential sameness between racial and ethnic groups despite unequal social locations and distinctive histories. (…) Color-blindness works as an ideology by obscuring the institutional arrangements reproducing structural inequalities and does so in a

18 way that justifies and defends the racial status quo” (645). In his vision, the privileged West is taking away outspoken forms of authenticity and differences, keeping a quiet, powerful vice-grip on the ‘Other’, while appropriating whatever it likes. If this is the case, hip-hop’s defensive and exclusionary interpretation of the ‘keeping it real’ would be defendable: ‘real’ hip-hop authenticity, framed “as a black-created culture threatened with assimilation into a white mainstream (Hess, 374).8 It being desirable, thus valuable, for appropriators – in this case mostly the West in general – might also explain why authenticity is in such close liaison with consumership and processes of commodification. Kent Grayson and colleagues reason on a, what they call, century old fact of market forces, in which the authenticity of a product itself, or the folklore surrounding it, is the driving force behind the value. Even more so, clear inauthenticity is deemed lethal, for marketing purposes (296). New technological developments even put more pressure on apparent authenticity, as the possible ways of producing counterfeits and other mass-production techniques is multiplied. This seems a credible observation, accurate for a lot of market forces, but hip-hop of course already has an ambiguous relationship with counterfeiting, borrowing and reusing. However, the same technological time period accounts for similar digital developments that are part of the reason for the worldwide spread and commodification of local cultures, thus building a foundation to appropriate, indeed restraining and modifying hip-hop’s notion of authenticity. Grayson et al distinguish two dimensions of authenticity:

§ Indexical authenticity: “when there does not exist a copy or an imitation (…), when it is believed to be “the original” or “the real thing. (…) To view something as an index, the perceiver must believe that it actually has the factual and spatio-temporal link that is claimed.” (297-298).

8 After using such statements, I feel compelled to reiterate the fact that this thesis also brushes against a similar form appropriation, but remains worthwhile to instigate more research and thought on the matters op cultural appropriation.

19 § Iconic Authenticity: “to describe something whose physical manifestation resembles something that is indexically authentic. Authors sometimes distinguish this sense of authenticity from indexical authenticity by using phrases such as “authentic reproduction” or “authentic recreation”.” (298)

In a different study authenticity is described as threefold indexically authentic. “Indexical authenticity for hip-hop music could be temporal (linked to a proper time), spatial (associated with the right place), or corporal (from the individuals who can “keep it real”)” (Motley et al, 251). However, one might argue that, following Charles Sanders Peirce’s linguistic categories of signs, it is impossible for every hip-hop artist to be thoroughly indexical, it being inconceivable to check ; this does however not necessarily have to knock down the credible claim that he or she is in fact ‘keeping it real’. It might be necessary to find another term for this non-indexical, Taking Peirce’s writing on semiotics into account, one has to notice that the third typology of signs is missing: the symbol. The notion of hip-hop as a culture, existing of a contradictory relationship with authenticity, might find its solution in this third, missing dimension of authenticity. Hip-hop’s culture, as well as its imbedded questions of authenticity, is namely also a symbolic construct, with ambiguous room for interpretation, metaphors and allegories, to which a lot of different people can and do align themselves. However, it is in this symbolic turn that the opportunity to freely appropriate arises, abusing the symbolic imagery or musical aspects, establishing fabricated icons. The mimicking of the initial indexical or overarching symbolic, especially by non-marginalized parties outside of the U.S. hip-hop community, often results in iconical imagery, which can even be blamed for being a mockery or parody. “The resulting appropriation and adaptation of the genre by others is perceived by members of the U.S. hip-hop community as copies or imitations of the “real thing.” As an example, one can take a look at a part of the Japanese hip-hop community, to see “that “blackness” on the streets of Tokyo is a commodity instead of a lifestyle, an icon rather than the real thing” (Motley et al, 251). As mentioned before, this also accounts for white America, as

20 “color-blind eyes interpret racialized cultural symbols in ways undermining their racially coded character, (…) allowing whites to use culture to experience a felt similarity with people of color” (Rodriguez, 646). It is this kind of appropriation that this thesis claims to be reclaimable, through sampling of film excerpts. Referring back to Korpela’s more delicate approach to an skewed postcolonial ideology, in which the history of ‘the Other’ gets romanticized, one might state that hip-hop’s culture has from its early conception for a great part also been based on a similar romanticized appreciation of a faraway past. The romantic ‘cultural imagination’ is however internalized, to reinforce a certain pride and glory in what was thought of as an inferior history by lots, or at least an inferior way of living in an inferior area, the ghetto. This socio-spatial aspect occupies several studies on hip-hop, combining the geographical confines and the social circumstances to pose statements about its authentic origins and future developments. Space and time was key in hip-hop’s nascence, as already set out in the preface. How does such a specific origin, with all the implications on authenticity, pan out into an universally appropriated culture? These cultural laws of hip-hop’s nature are set out in the first part of a theoretical framework. Which narrative derives from the socio-spatial origins of hip-hop and how does this relate to sentiments and statements expressed in the tracks? The indexical importance of showing your connectedness to the seminal neighborhoods of hip- hop, or just any area where you were born in, comes forward in the lyrics of many songs. In the lead single of ’s 1993 debut album, “Who Got Da Props?” raps: “straight from , better known as ,” as a shout-out to the New York borough – a line that was by the way sampled in the title song of ’s 1994 movie, Crooklyn (, 1993). on their part honorifically mention the big thoroughfare, Linden Boulevard, praising their middle-class upbringing in the neighborhood; the street is heavily connected to the rap group, since the song in question, “Check The Rhime” became heavily influential (Low End Theory, 1991). The narrative of a socio-geographical common ground seems to be crucial: ‘this is where I come from, this is what I do’. Some of these sentiments even seem hostile towards interferences of other cultures, as Kembrew McLeod explains in his text on authenticity within hip-hop: “[t]he multiple invocations of authenticity made by

21 hip-hop community members are a direct and conscious reaction to the threat of the assimilation and the colonization of this self-identified, resistive subculture.” McLeod confirms an idea that authenticity is as classical, as an almost youthful antilogy of in-group versus out-group. In the past twenty-five years one could speak of a “spatial turn”, adding much more attention and value to “social and cultural phenomena as they happen in space” in critical cultural analysis (Forman, 13). Rap’s “self-defined and continuing challenge is to maintain its aesthetic, cultural, and political proximity to its site of original expression: the ghetto poor” (Dyson, 65). Appropriation of all of the culture’s assets, but done by people with a distance to this core environment, might indeed feel like an attack on its values and importance, as the references to the ghetto poor “may be used to legitimize a cultural or social setting that in negative ways, has partially given rise to its expression” (Dyson, 64). The latter is a thing to be proud of, one to cherish as an honorable achievement of what was deemed unthinkable in the circumstances hip-hop arose from. Soon, as it evolved, rap began to describe and analyze the social, economic, and political factors that led to its emergence and development” (Dyson, 61). Both its geographical aspect and the social state of affairs contribute to a sense of real authenticity and a great part in the story of ‘keeping it real’. Most of the writing on hip-hop involves this search for certain socio- spatial common grounds and ethnical histories. “Early research on rappers primarily focused on rap music as an urban, black, male youth culture” (Harkness, 284). Over the course of the last decades, as the music became popified and globalized, other ethnical and geographical cultures found their selves in a position of shedding light on what Carol M. Motley and Geraldine Rosa Henderson call the hip-hop Diaspora, “spanning ethnic, linguistic, and geographic boundaries” (243). “In hip-hop culture authenticity is one of the most salient boundaries – who is and is not ‘keeping it real’ is of central importance. Bourdieu (1984) notes that is this fundamental struggle between so-called ‘authentic’ and ‘fake’ that determines the value of culture” (Harkness, 285). This resonates with Korpela’s and Rodriguez’ thoughts on a Western tendency to claim a spot in what is deemed as valuable, but is in fact a space of cultural significance, constructed by and for a certain group. Murray Forman in his book The Hood Comes First

22 wants to stress his cautionary concern that a fixed original space, in which hip- hop was inevitably conceived or will be formed over and over, is too narrow- sighted: “space is not, in and of itself, a causal force; it is influential but does not determine outcomes (19). He does so, as he thinks that most of cultural analyses overvalue the purely impoverished ghetto as the one and only breeding ground of hip-hop’s culture. “Today many top Rap acts, like their audiences, hail from middle-class or more affluent suburban enclaves,” a also already was mentioned above in reference to A Tribe Called Quest’s song “Check The Rhime”. This is one of the aspects that might be misinterpreted and eventually misappropriated, if not in reality, in textual form. If one speaks of the re-appropriation of a hip-hop culture, it does not necessarily mean to take something back to the hood, but rather implies the reclamation of a narrative by its originators, wherever they reside. A similar rigorous approach, but then concerning the predominantly large focus on the ‘blackness’ of hip-hop’s history, sheds a light on the average historical research of hip-hop’s earliest authentic beginning in the seventies, that might just be as limited as Forman thinks of the field of work, concerning the socio-spatial determination of hip-hop. Reiland Rabaka suggests calling this limiting view, a (scientific) amnesia. In his book, Hip Hop’s Amnesia, he contends that neither hip hop’s aesthetics nor hip hop’s politics can be adequately comprehended without some sort of working-knowledge of historic African American social and political movements” (xx). The main gist of his story is the observation that everybody, acting inside the hip-hop culture, as well as the critics and scientists debating and analyzing from the outside, gravitates towards blindfolded authentication by just one aspect of African-American culture – ‘the hood’, ‘the impoverished’, ‘keeping it real’ or ‘the non-commodified’. These are all elements that underlie important hip-hop truths, which however cannot speak for its entirety. A sole focus on one of the single elements, as grounds for authentication, might marginalize the real authentic origin, loosing sight on the African heritage from its earliest spiritual past, passed the displacement of the African people and the forthcoming African Diaspora, into the early 20th century. Rabaka’s goal is to elaborate on “what has been forgotten but should be remembered concerning the “old school” origins and evolution of rap music and

23 hip hop culture” (xx). Therefore, hip-hop’s authenticity in the end transcends the contemporary developments of African-American life, as he explains how the African-Americanism was just as crucial in the existence of white subcultures in recent history. “It is extremely important for us to accent the African American influence on and contributions to both the Lost Generation and the Beat Generation, because without understanding the significance of this influence and these contributions will continue to be repeatedly robbed of their historical and cultural contributions,” Rabaka fearfully expresses (137). Isn’t this fear of appropriation, which is arguably happening right now? In his vision, it is all about respecting and certainly not forgetting ones original identity. He calls out to look further than ‘intramusical authenticity’, “to illustrate the incredible intellectual depth and wide-reach of rap music and hip hop culture’s contributions to contemporary history, culture, aesthetics, politics, and society” and eventually break free from an internal constrictiveness, to find power to re-appropriate a possible appropriation (xxii). This wide-reach is also important, to acknowledge differences inside the African-American identity. “African American critical thought has historically been focused on undermining and examining black subjectivity under persistent conditions of inequality and oppression,” which also felt as needed in reaction to the first wave of predominantly white Postmodernist writing, from the likes of Michel Foucault, Jacques Derrida, Fredric Jameson and Roland Barthes. However, the importance has to be stressed that the term ‘black’ should be met with less unambiguous, as well as ubiquitous definition (David M. Jones, 673). There should be ”recognition of difference as well as similarity in social identities and cultural work, (…) seeking movements and aesthetic practices that have deeper roots in African American cultural history” (674). Taking the narrow-sighted quest for intra-cultural film samples a step further, away from a Blaxploitation- centered narrative, to a farther-reaching inclusion of sample culture and African- American appreciation of different aesthetics. I want to make one side note on this, otherwise fairly strong exposition. Hip-hop’s boundaries of authenticity can be so constrictive, that the same amnesia that Rabaka speaks of concerns another ethnical group that actually took part in its culture from the very beginning. Having to deal with a stereotype

24 from within, the group would find itself constantly redefining their position within hip-hop’s culture, oozing out an African-American narrative. Especially Puerto Ricans, who were breaking and spray-painting alongside their African- Americans contemporaries in the Bronx, are often excluded from any cultural or historical analysis on hip-hop, apart from the acknowledging of their early presence. Juan Flores explains how a Puerto Rican rapper changed his name, struggling with his image and language in a culture Puerto Ricans co-created themselves: “KT didn’t always signal the Puerto Rican cultural heritage, and in fact the derivation of their names shows that their struggle for identity has been a response against the stereotyped symbolism of rap culture” (79). Flores describes this dynamic as the “Puerto Ricans’ nagging intimation that they are treading on Black Turf” (85). However, it can be seen as a fact that “rap is their history, and Puerto Ricans are an integral part in the history of hip-hop. (..) They helped make rap what it was to become, as they played a constitutive role in the stylistic definition of graffiti writing and ” (84) This Puerto Ricans’ intimation is a striking example of the ambiguity of authenticity, and how equally severely persistent the African-American narrative of said authenticity can be. Authenticity is a crucial construct within the hip-hop culture, being a construct hard to break out of and possibly limiting and muddling in its inclusion of other cultures. I have tried to establish a widespread, postcolonial notion of authenticity and how it is embedded in studies on the black origin of the culture; a new research on “the negotiation of authenticity by white, female, and suburban rappers” seems imperative (Harkness, 284). I would like to suggest that the same applies to a re-analysis of the film-sampling habits, taking into account the different appropriations of authenticity. Below, the quest for hip-hop’s musical relationship with it’s own past can commence. This second half of the theoretical framework will address concepts of sampling. How does the use of older recordings relate to hip-hop’s mostly African-American heritage, notions of authenticity and feelings of nostalgia? What is the range of sampling techniques and how do concepts of remediation, pastiche and others, fit into the antithetical spectrum of authenticity and appropriation; the sampling being a form of appropriation in itself, taking from other materials to create a new, personal

25 authenticity? In the actual textual analysis a few answers for the questions raised above, will be posed, as well as an attempt to define the ways in which the choice of film-samples indeed constitute a form of re-appropriation of it’s own cultural authenticity. As it has been set out above, being authentic, as in true to oneself and ones ethnical, socio-spatial origins, seems to be key in hip-hop’s forms of expression. From proclaiming oneself in a tag on some wall, to shouting out the boys and the neighborhood through nicknames and area codes or telling about the gruesome acts one has seen or even personally inflicted. Countless records represent the neighborhood or city, both in title and image. The Beastie Boys’ Paul’s Boutique, Jay-Z’s Brooklyn’s Finest, NWA’s Straight Outta Compton, Nipsey Hussle’s Crenshaw, J Dilla’s Welcome 2 Detroit, OutKast’s ATLiens: these are just a few examples of representing ones geographical origin, inevitably referring to certain socio-economic upbringing and a community. All this is achieved, just in the album title or on the cover. The represent of the authentic, or “keeping it real”, is integral to hip-hop’s identity. According to Justin A. Williams, this has to do with the tenacity of hip-hop’s own history. Or as he puts it, “[h]istorical authenticity in hip-hop becomes an extramusical and intramusical debate that contributes to construction of these genres and communities” (22). This counts as the setup for his work on the so-called historical authenticity of hip-hop, in this case expressed through sampling. Joanna Demers conforms to this assumption in a similar way, as she also explains how certain soul records “[were] known as the ‘Old School’, and for numerous rappers and DJs epitomized an authentic black consciousness” (41). It is not farfetched to build a similar hypothesis, which connects sampling to film fragments instead, as Joanna Demers does. She delves deep into the ‘Blaxploitation sound’ of the seventies black cinema, depicting ghetto life, black narratives and using black music. “Musical samples instantaneously invoke the characters and situations of the films, and transfer their mystique into their new hip-hop context” (48). This assertion leaves room to ponder about the sampling of non-African-American films and non-blaxploitation soundtracks. How does ones authentic black consciousness relate to these non-black references? This black foundation of the hip-hop culture, subsequently presented as the genre-defining understanding of

26 authenticity, might presuppose an exclusion of elements from other cultures, or prevent spread to other (popular) culture. This dissection exists even within itself, a sort of family feud that Kembrew McLeod calls “the Old School vs. the Mainstream” (143). Therefore, the central notion of authenticity has to be deepened, on the wise that its cultural variations will surface. But the notion of authenticity and its complications cannot be seen apart from hip-hop’s paradoxical liaison with appropriation. The basic mode of keeping it real seems intrinsically frightful or even hostile to appropriation by ‘an Other’, while on the other side it is saturated with appropriatory modes, borrowing from other material and cultures through samples, remixing and lyrical intertextuality. Appropriating another might also work out empowering, as Ashcroft, Griffiths and Tiffin propose in their text on post-colonial literature. They quote Raja Rao, who thinks that, in a more positive connotation, appropriation might be explained as “the process by which language is taken and made to ‘bear the burden’ of one’s own cultural experience or ‘convey in a language that is not one’s own the spirit that is one’s own’ (Rao 1938:vii)” (38). However, cultural appropriation is generally, and often unfavorably, marked by varying acts of “1) representation of cultural practices or experiences by cultural “outsiders” (sometimes called “voice appropriation”); 2) the use of artistic styles distinctive of cultural groups by non-members; and, 3) the procurement or continued possession of cultural objects by non-members or culturally distant institutions” (Matthes, 343). The negative connotation surrounding cultural appropriation mostly derives from the fact that certain cultural practices or experiences are misrepresented, misused or stolen instead of rightfully possessed. Making conclusory judgments of these profoundly abusive appropriations is a very delicate process. A quite clear-cut example of culturally appropriated materiality is the do-rag. Traditionally black people used this headpiece as a way to preserve or create a wave, becoming a more mainstream fashion item when hip-hops most prominent members started to wear it during the nineties. Suddenly white people, among whom singer Fred Durst, actors Steven Seagal and , also caught onto this trend. This could quite conceivably be meant as an admirable wink to the hip-hop culture, but also be a culturally oblivious act of misusing an African-American piece of apparel, firstly, and a hip-

27 hop aesthetic, secondly. Even more nuanced and possibly more problematic is the misrepresentation of culture in different modes of expression. Stereotypes and other harmful exaggerations are lurking, to finally result in social injustice and other wrongdoing. For example, one might ask how it is possible and justifiable for a team of white producers or directors to convey African-American stories or feelings on film. Maybe a lot has to do with permission, but who determines the grounds for permits. But on what grounds does hip-hop have the ‘right’ to appropriate? Is hip-hop, through a mode like sampling, finally a language of an original group of minorities, trying to grasp the mode of appropriation to represent themselves? Hip-hop’s sampling might escape the verdict of harmful appropriation, because of its position in an African diaspora, or personal music taste: either way, it comes down to personal interpretations of the nuances of appropriation.

2.2. Musical Borrowing: Sampling or appropriating? Taking and re-using other music material also goes back to the first hip-hop conception, when the DJs in the Bronx took small parts of different records to create an ongoing loop of rhythm on which could be emceed and danced. This was the hands-on, live predecessor of (digital) sampling now. Some theorists propose the idea “that given the social, cultural, and economic circumstances in which it arose, hip-hop was in inevitable; that if none of the hip-hop’s innovators had been born, a different group of poor black youth from the Bronx would have developed hip-hop in exactly the same way” (Schloss, 26). Sampling would have inevitably arisen from this determinate deprivation: the simple fact that they did not have any possibilities of getting instruments and proper . However, a less coincidental reason might be more appropriate and respectful of the creative force behind the developments of sampling – instead of defining hip- hop’s sampling as a “[random] musical hodge-podge cobbled together from the discarded scraps of majority culture” (Schloss, 28). “The looping aesthetic” would become the backbone, still evident in hip-hop. It “combined a traditional African American approach to composition with new technology to create a radically new way of making music” (Schloss, 33). Moreover, “it is the very act of borrowing bits of existing works in many instances that serves to connect

28 culturally identifiable texts to new ones to further strengthen the community born of collective memory and collective experience” (Evans, 859). This is in line with the African-American studies’ concept of Signifyin(g)9, which basically means “repetition with a difference; the same and yet not the same” (Potter, 27). Hip-hop, as a musical culture, is “Signifyin(g) on what came before [it],” as it becomes some sort of “musical ‘conversations’ (…) between the present and the past” (Williams, 10). Signifyin(g) through sampling “openly celebrates its intertextualities places it firmly in the lineage of the African-based music- making”, which confirms the idea that sampling did not just evolve from arbitrariness (Williams, 11). “Sampling was and is hip hop’s ongoing link with history and tradition, including all of the African and African American musical genres” (Perkins, 9). But sampling not only acts as a historical account or homage but through this aesthetic hip-hop artists “can [also] assume the role of cultural critic, using music as a method to construct and deconstruct historical narratives,” Cheney adds (10). As such, sampling is an important expression of a shared cultural and historical narrative but also the voice of an individual, more contemporary tale and not just an essentialist approach by nostalgic artists, as it creates something new for the contemporary community. “It reuses commodities, records on wax, and makes them local and new by putting them into a musical collage” (Perry, 203). Moreover, “[though] sampling was identified as a technique congruent with a longer, common musical heritage, (…) while aspects of cultural memory and memorial were in play, so too were self-interested exploitations of the forgotten and the unknown” (Perchard, 290). Aside from staying true to ones African-American heritage, this, for me, adds a nuance to the ‘keeping it real’ of sampling: a competitive part of authenticity. Firstly, in this view sampling becomes a more pragmatically incentive to be competitively creative and authentic. Early hip-hop DJs found innovative ways to remove labels and other signifiers of their records, so that the valuable, often little-known discoveries remained in their hands. The same goes for ones ability to ‘dig in the crates’ of record stores and find “unused sample sources” as a measure of hip-hop credibility and expertise, as Perchard exemplifies by quoting DJ Mark the 45

9 Coined by Henry Louis Gates, Jr. in 1983.

29 King10: “[people] look up to me because I’m looping up records that haven’t been used before” (290). It became an appreciated skill to sample as opposed to the concept of originality as a musical cornerstone. To sample is in other words also a way to comment on the act and appreciation of sampling. Hip-hop was partly frowned upon, by for example older African-American jazz artists, because of its very crucial mode of musical expression. Sampling these artists “launched an attack on those African American elders who held a distinctly low opinion of rap and sampling” (Perchard, 294). Such commentary is not only directed inward, on its own direct culture and heritage, but also outwards. ’s “Say No Go” touches postmodern critique by ironically sampling the Hall and Oates’ “I Can’t Go For That”, according to Elizabeth Wheeler. De La Soul’s song about a crack baby “critiques the American habit of throwing away both things and people” in a single sample by indeed the white, “blue-eyed soul duo” (200). More strongly put, “rap have come to use the sampler in an oppositional manner which contests capitalists notions of public” by taking freely from other commodities (Porcello, 82). The use of juxtaposition in sampling seems to appeal the strongest imagination as also is shown by ’s sample of Boney M.’s “No Woman, No Cry”11, in their 1991 song “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright”. It can be seen as an ironical statement “about their perceived captivity within the socioeconomically disadvantaged communities the rappers were born and raised in, resorting to a fairly common sense of nihilism,” shows a way in which the seizure of another work does not go without thought nor meaning (Hilkens, 31). The juxtaposition of either conflicting messages hidden in songs, or using a sample of an overtly white song to elaborate on an African-American narrative, shows two variations of possible outwardly sampling commentary. Wheeler proposes a distinction of three ways samples are put to use by the African- American hip-hop artist (199):

10 What’s in a name? The 45 in moniker of course refers to the 45s, or in other words the small 7-inch or 12-inch singles. 11 Which is a cover of Bob Marley’s song of the same name.

30 • Hommage (quotation of a black entity to be proud of; e.g. or a Spike Lee movie) • Irony (antithetic quotation of a piece with a different intent or connotation, making it an ironic comment or critique; e.g. Naughty by Nature, mentioned above) • Blank Pastiche (a seemingly neutral, coincidental use of a sample, salvaging its audience into recognition, while actually critiquing the connotation people have with the sample)

In addition, I made a own distinction to categorize the three ways film-samples are done:

• Sampling from a film’s Original Soundtrack on wax, or digitally nowadays (OST; being the music score that is originally written for the film) • ‘Film-reel’ sampling (sequences of dialogue and other diegetic sounds that are taken from the film itself) • Lyrical interpolation (referring to or literally re-rapping dialogue from film in song text)

The analysis of this thesis will combine the theory of meaningful sampling/borrowing/appropriation laid out above, to approach several ways of sampling film. To sample is to represent an inward narrative, not only of your own upbringing but also in honor of your ancestors, as one way of authenticity. Also, it is an outward critique on a society, taking aspects of other cultures to ironically express indifference or inequality. Thirdly, the appropriation of something not of one’s own cultural lineage is a way to comment on the very act of appropriation itself. To sample is to ‘keep it real’ and reclaim ‘the real’. But how does hip-hop’s notion of sampling withstand the forces of glocalization, taking it away from a predominantly black audience and artists? How do the ones sampling respond to appropriation from others, and what altering effects might the glocalization have in reverse?

31 2.3 Glocalization: a global narrative of localities Glocalization is a deepening nuance to more linear conceptions of globalization, often put forward as the cause of worldwide homogeneity, problematizing the dichotomy of universal and local. Newer technologies to distribute and consume music, especially those that arrived after the Web 2.0 made the Internet an open data-pool of social interaction and information, caused hip-hop to spread even easier around the world and make hip-hop artists even bigger stars, while giving aspiring individuals a lesser complicated run for their money to create songs. Roland Robertson, as one of the leading sociologist taking this term to the forefront, proposes to get rid of the common tendency to regard globalization as the archenemy of local identity (33). The local is able to be salient, by the grace of homogenizing, global dynamics, while the global is just as well (re-)formed by taking from different localities. Hip-hop as a culture is able to globalize spatially, addressing variations of local minorities all over the world, who recognize a shared narrative in the music and other expressions. Dutch people from African Caribbean heritage can, for example share this narrative, and the authenticity that expels from it, “who can claim greater global authenticity in terms of the discourses of marginalization” (Pennycook, 102). But according to these notions of glocalization, this does not mean that the new local minorities become homogenized, literally taking over every element of the hip-hop predecessors. It proposes that a cultural narrative can be turned around, and morphed into a more local variation, appropriating certain elements of the original culture to create a new authentic self. In an research on the incorporation of hip-hop culture in Australia’s aboriginal community, Damian Arthur puts forward that “when a brand is consumed outside of the culture of origin, its meaning is often altered and adapted by the host culture” (142). “For many hip-hop artists, then, the first move toward localization is a rejection of aspects of rap from the United States and a turn toward overtly local themes,” Pennycook adds to the discussion (106). But doesn’t this contradict his earlier remarks on the fact that a black Dutch community is a better ‘authentic fit’ to it’s African-American original? If “[m]any young people around the world who are marginalized due to their ethnicity or class have adapted the metaphor of the black struggle in the United States to their own battles against racism and

32 authoritarianism” is taken as a fact, where does the also factual notion of ‘keeping it real’ fit in (Cutler, 213)? Let alone that it seems to leave out the idea of wrongful appropriation by others as a possible outcome. How does the ‘original’ hip-hop community respond to this meddling with the authentic notion of ‘keeping it real’. Basically, a process of hip-hop glocalization proposes that local cultures internalize hip-hop, picking some of its aesthetics while remaining much of its own identity and expressions – in comparison to a possible ‘globalization’- approach, which might argue that the local culture has appropriated every single expressive mode of hip-hop that in turn will lose its original narrative in the continuous remediation. One of hip-hop’s cornerstones is its adaptability of other material, of which sampling is one example, while another cornerstone is its liaison with its own roots and authentic self. These two cornerstones in themselves might account for hip-hop’s proved ‘spreadability’, revolving in its glocalization. An example of this process of glocalization is researched in Aafje de Roest’s text on the ‘represent’ in Dutch hip-hop. She describes how the originally American/hip- hop slang is appropriated and challenged by Dutch artists, and used to even more thoroughly express their own origin, their very local and authentic Dutch self – and is certainly not used to show some sort of alliance to their artistic predecessors from America. The fact that hip-hop’s culture has shown to be easily adapted and appropriated, it also easily adapts and appropriates itself. How does the historically ‘authentic’ hip-hop demographic react to the appropriation of ‘their’ culture and its modes of expression, on one hand, but also of authenticity, on the other? Are the Dutch hip-hoppers, whom de Roest describes, keeping it real, expressing a new, local authenticity; or are they in fact merely appropriating? In short: will the African-American hip-hop, as has been the leitmotif of this thesis, lose (parts of) its origin in the fast spread and transformation of the music-side of the culture? And then, will it be able to reclaim, or keep claiming, an authentic origin? This might be a form of ‘re- appropriating the appropriators’, being the before mentioned paradox of appropriation that hip-hop’s culture seems to enclose in action. In the analysis below the theoretical frameworks of the ‘keeping it real’ of ‘original hip-hop’,

33 appropriation through sampling and the effects of glocalization will come together.

34 3. Methodology

This thesis will be executed in a hybrid form, combining a literature study, to specifically analyze crucial aspects of hip-hop’s cultural history with a textual analysis, comparing the samples in certain hip-hop songs to it’s filmic originals. Therefore it will be utterly qualitative and descriptive in nature. Its bibliography will consist of socio-historical work on the early years of hip-hop’s existence, the cultural analysis of its recent developments, interpretative research on the meaning of hip-hop’s visual and auditory trends, geographical studies and conscientious comparison between discourse of both film and song. Semantics, as well as larger media studies en social concepts will be touched. The literature that has been gathered, is not confined to hip-hop centered texts, but also draws more directly from the other overarching fields. This is inevitable, as hip-hop is mostly looked at from a sociological or anthropological perspective, borrowing broader concepts like “glocalization”, “imagined communities” or “cultural appropriation” to interpret the cultural dynamics, as is seen in the previous chapters. These observations and definitions coalesce in the next chapter, in which I build up from lyrics, to imagery to the film samples. These steps are important to get and, moreover, believe the gravity of locality, socio-economic realities, the depictions of violence and crime as an expression of ‘the keeping it real’, intertextuality and finally how the film-samples are meaningfully and critically appropriated. This is also to show how glocalization has not changed this narrative over time. Songs from both the early and recent hip-hop releases express a similar narrative, including the same importance of locality, a shared socio-economic struggle and crime. The lyrics are followed by visual quotations that are seen at the covers of , which will form the bridge to the sampling of non-African-American film.

35 4. Analysis: Film-reels to keep it real 4.1 Tales from the Hood – lyrical depictions First of all, hip-hop’s seemingly natural process of glocalization might be a logical consequence of its universally significant story. This story tells the trials and tribulations of young minorities growing up in impoverished areas. Since the early days of hip-hop the artists addressed their locality and their socio- economical origins through storytelling, both lyrically and visually, to affirm their ways of living; to authenticate themselves as part of the culture from which the notion of ‘keeping it real’ stems. As rapped in his 1994 song “The World is Yours”:

‘To my man Ill Will God bless your life To my peoples throughout God bless your life’

To add a little further on:

‘Dwellin’ in the Rotten Apple, you get tackled Or caught by the devil’s lasso, shit is a hassle’

Nas unfolds some grim details of his life – the death of his friend Ill Will – while referring the hardships and unfairness of living in Queens, New York – ‘the Rotten Apple’ – and dealing with the police – ‘the devil’s lasso’ – at that time; all elements of an African-American life in that time. This very personal approach makes it possible for him to deal with his struggles, while being able to express himself publicly. His presence in Queens at that time, make his lyrics count as primary source material and hand him a position of high-authenticity in the hip- hop culture. Queens is the borough where it all started, after all. Throughout its history, hip-hop artists continued to emphasize their presence and prevalence in their neighborhoods, unceasingly claiming their authentic positions. A more recent example is rapper Eto’s feature on Flee Lord’s 2019 album Gets Greater

36 Later, which shows that locality is still very important. Here he tells about his role in his neighborhood, fusing his persona with fiery, daring, yet loveable character of the young girl Troy, as Brooklyn’s soul in Spike Lee’s Crooklyn (1994):

‘Fruitful labour, I won’t get to enjoy Before me, I put who I employ Rebuild, after I destroy My city loves me, would Brooklyn never miss Troy?’

The Crooklyn reference is an example of hip-hop’s divergent ways to use intertextuality as a mode of self-authentication: Eto, an Latin-American rapper, does not just remind his listeners of his geographical origin – which actually is not Brooklyn, but Rochester, New York; instead the film reference in his lyrics are meant to constitute an image of his role in the community. He positions his influential and authentic self to the likes of Spike Lee, a respected director in communities like Brooklyn, and Troy, a fictitious character of symbolic importance to represent the same community. He formulates grounds of authentication, as if to say: ‘I am keeping it real and this is why’. Moreover, being released in 2019, this shows how hip-hop as a glocalized commodity persistently holds on to the ‘keeping it real’. The ‘grounds of authentication’ often consist of very detailed accounts of experiences growing up in tough neighborhoods, which (unfortunately) include acts of violence or illegal activities. However gruesome or terrible, these accounts of gritty past – or in some cases very relevant – lives grant even more possible authentication. “This take on the real is often derided as an obsession with a particular story about violence, drugs, and life in the hood, or with a belief that there is a something essentially authentic in the description of brutal lifestyles” (Pennycook, 103). The depiction of the crime-ridden narrative in hip- hop’s aesthetic is not as simple as Pennycook’s quote reads, something he is also aware of in his text. The continuous presence and sometimes grandeur of violence as an expression of keeping it real seems more inclined to a socio- geographical and political substratum; a shared youth experience and social

37 situation. Buffalo, New York, resident Benny The Butcher launches off the last song of his 2019 The Plugs I Met album by sampling a news reporter:

‘US Attorney James Kennedy says **** is connected to Buffalo's Black Soprano gang Other members are awaiting sentencing’

Benny’s name is left out of the sample – either due to legal issues or because the story of the song gratefully revolves around the fact that Benny no longer stands trial. He goes on to vividly describe the process of drug trafficking:

‘The first around ain’t a workaround You gotta hit it twice to make it last Take a quarter, you make a quarter Put that together, that’ll make a half When the coke come pressed, it’s’

He never finishes the sentence. ‘Matter fact, I ain’t tellin niggas shit,’ he continues. Benny explains in his second verse how the lifestyle of a local drug kingpin brought him all kinds of personal tragedies. Between every verse you hear a recording of his wife, who is credited as INDIA. She recollects the days she met Benny, at the time notoriously dealing, when the police came to arrest him, to finally end with her thankfully stating that Benny’s criminal days are over and they can live in peace. The song tells a ‘rags to riches’-story, very quintessential for the (African-)American hip-hop culture as hip-hop “is an embodiment of hip- hop culture and offers a narrative of both struggle and resilience” (McLeod JR, 123). It does so without glorifying the violence and criminality that Benny had to endure. However, these are elements that carry weight into the narrative of the ‘keep it real’. Another track, on which Benny features, critically assesses how these story elements are also part of an internal discussion in the culture: rappers who, often glorifyingly, exploit the hardships they had to overcome, but are accused by others that they might not speak the truth.

38 ‘These rappers never had a half-ounce So why they rap about racks? And act out these war stories on Vlad’s couch’12

The Alchemist – Massacre featuring Benny The Butcher & (Lunch Meat, 2018)

This intra-cultural discussion has had the largest grossing hip-hop artist hit the headlines, accusing one another of wrongfully using the ‘rags to riches’-story as a mode of self-authentication. From Drake13, who would have already had money to accommodate the start of his career, to Rick Ross14, who uses the name of the ex-drug lord and was working as a prison guard before breaking through the music business: everybody can be called up to the stand to defend themselves and their origin. This internal struggle might concretize the important position of the ‘keeping it real’-notion in hip-hop, also seen in the way DJs and producers tried to keep their vinyl sacredly secret15. It just so happens that this notion is often expressed by emphasizing ones socio-geographical upbringing, constituting a ‘rags to riches’-narrative that, when overcome, sets you aside from fellow-sufferers. But beware of boastingly and untruthfully overstating the rags, as it undermines ‘representing the real hip-hop’16. Even though glocalization is a reality, African-American hip-hop must and does not forget the socio-geographical origins of its African-American pioneers. As respectfully calls out his predecessors (on Jealous One’s Envy (1995)):

‘Before I start, you know I got ta

12 Benny speaks up to the rappers who lie about there drug related crimes and boastingly talk about it in public, through the online platform VladTV 13 Drake defending himself: https://popcrush.com/drake-critics-rich- upbringing/ 14 A so-called ‘beef’ between hip-hop moguls and Rick Ross, about the latter’s ‘realness’: https://www.vibe.com/2015/11/50-cent-rick-ross-tim- westwood-video 15 As can be read in chapter 2.2. Musical Borrowing 16 A common phrase heard in different variations in plenty hip-hop songs, often to make a distinction in hip-hop and rap; e.g. – We Run Things (It’s Like That) (Ambushed, 1994) https://genius.com/3195293

39 Pay homage and respect to Afrika Bambaata17 Zulu Nation, for twenty years of work Fat Joe wouldn’t be on if it wasn’t for Red Alert18’

Twenty-three years later still recalls influential figures of the past:

‘I am Hugh Masakela meets Masta Killa19’

During the last decades, in which the hip-hop culture has become a glocal product, (African)-American hip-hop artists have never ceased to refer to a common socio-geographical origin, a shared ‘rags to riches’-narrative and a past of pioneers in a process of self-authentication. However, one might expect, and reality seems to proof, that the gist of this ‘rags to riches’-narrative will globally also appeal to the large amounts of adolescents who experience similar struggles, making it ‘appropriate-able’. When a universal market economy gets involved and the story reaches dozens of privileged, well-doing kids and young adults, wrongful appropriation by these cultures with contra-narratives and a loss of its own origins might be the consequence. “[B]orrowing, in its multidimensional forms and manifestations, is central to the aesthetics of hip- hop” (Williams, 1). But there is also this imminent fear of losing ones origin. If hip-hop was there to give urban minorities a voice, how does this purpose remain evident and authentic when in the hands of suburban whites or other cultures around the world? James D. McLeod Jr. depicts meaning from ’s To Pimp a Butterfly and formulates a powerful, almost militant answer

17 Afrika Bambaataa is a respected pioneer of hip-hop’s early deejaying, as well as starting one of the first prominent social and political awareness-groups in the hip-hop culture: Zulu Nation; inspired by Cy Endfield’s 1964 Zulu, the group embraces their African heritage and propagates positivity in the ghetto instead of gang related activities. 18 DJ Red Alert, founding father of early hip-hop culture and influential radio DJ, gave Fat Joe his opportunity to present himself in a 1991 98.7 Kiss FM Radio Promo, a very short snippet to show of your rap skills and your hip-hop crew. 19 Hugh Masakela is a South-African jazz , writing important anti- apartheid compositions; Masta Killa is a more mysterious and observant member of the hip-hop moguls from the Wu-Tang Clan, but a respected lyricist.

40 that expresses this fear: “[w]hat emerges on the album is a reality for African Americans in which the dominant white culture represents an ever-present threat to the continued existence of African Americans” (124).

4.2 Images and sounds of the world As the lyrics above demonstrate, African-American hip-hop strongly holds on to the ‘keeping it real’-narrative. But hip-hop does not just passively undergo glocalization. Its modes of musical expression are developing technically and musically, exploring different sounds from different cultures and taking inspiration from other localities through its sampling, possibly in direct reaction on the process of glocalization. sampled the Brazilian gem “Na Boca Do Sol”, by Arthur Verocai (1972), for his “Put in Work” (2010). Both hip-hop veterans from the D.I.T.C.-crew (2016), as a newer collaboration between Curren$y, and producer (2018) used the psychedelic sounds from the Japanese Far East Family ’s (1976). Heem Stogied (2017) and Dark Lo with the producer V.Don (2018) turned to , respectively sampling the Italian Premiata Forneria Marconi 20(1973) and the Danish The Lollipops (1966). Also visually hip-hop culture borrows more extensively from other localities and cultures. For example, Jay Worthy and The Alchemist replicated a digitalized, geometrically composed image that was typical for Japanese album covers during the eighties, for their collaboration EP, Fantasy Island (2017).

20 Interestingly they sampled an English version, with re-recordings of two prior Italian sung LPs, instead of the Italian originals.

41

Jay Worthy / The Alchemist Eiichi Ohtaki Naoya Matsuoka & Wesing A Long Vacation (1981) The September Wind (1982) Fantasy Island (2017)

Using Hiroshi Nagai’s trained hands for the album’s artwork works as a direct wink at his seminal work for Japan’s city pop genre in the eighties, but also at a history of appropriation. City pop, as a musical genre, and it artworks at the time were a huge hodgepodge of subtropical American influences, like Adult Oriented Rock and . Nagai’s work in particular was inspired by American pop-art21. City pop curated an abundance of backyard swimming pools, American vehicles, palm trees, bay areas and Googie architecture in a classic American commercial- like fashion. The use of his artwork and the reference to this Japanese era of Americanization is part of a comment on appropriation and commercialization, especially when you take into account that the whole EP solely uses Japanese samples. Another wink to Japanese culture is the recent trend to use OBI-strips on new records, which seems to be initiated by the underground hip-hop label Daupe. This Japanese aesthetic originally just ministered additional information for the record seller, but after a while it became a piece of value for the record collectors. It served as some sort of stamp of originality, scarcity, and for some even quality.

21 His personal recollection of the when, how and why of his style can be read in this online interview: https://kaput-mag.com/stories_en/hiroshi-nagai/

42

Conway WestsideGunn Mooch & Futurewave Reject 2 (2015) Flygod (2016) Boss Sauce (2019)

Japan’s record business, being mostly disconnected from the rest of the Western market, offered different pressings and sometimes even additional tracks. Daupe’s releases are also highly scarce and looked after, as the ones with an OBI are limited to 20 copies. The appropriation of the Japanese OBI is a seal-of- quality for the hip-hop artist, while being limited adds to sense of originality, authenticity and ownership. The latter might seem contradictory to the act of appropriation, but as a reaction to attacks of appropriation by others it makes more sense. Moreover, these both appropriations of Japanese aesthetic expose how a re-appropriation of other localities is taking place. Years of glocalization and possible harmful appropriation by the Japanese, among others, garnered “early attempts by Japanese youth to “represent” hip-hop’s African American heritage reportedly involved intensive tanning, the use of hair chemicals to grow Afros and dreadlocks, and caricatures of hyper-stereotyped urban black masculinity as a rationale to abuse young women,” which all seem as bold manners of appropriation (Morgan & Bennett, 179-180). Now something is taken back, strengthening the ‘keeping it real’-narrative.

43 4.3 Film-reels to keep it real So how does film then strengthen the ‘keeping it real’-narrative? Joanna Demers already made a clear case how Blaxploitation films from the 1970s are used in hip-hop samples, as her article “detail[s] how Blaxploitation distilled certain societal concerns of the 1970s, and how in turn hip-hop feeds off Blaxploitation both dramatically and musically, re-using its story lines and sampling its soundtracks” (Demers, 42). Considering a great part of the scientific theories on hip-hop culture and its aesthetics revolves around authenticity and a shared African heritage, this seems both a correct en logical observation. Demers’ article, being one of the few that connects the narratives and aesthetics of both film and hip-hop, inspires to look at the great bunch of non-Blaxploitation, or even non-African-American borrowings, especially as this juxtaposition-like way of sampling bears a lot of meaning – as seen above. How does the non-African- American film add to the ‘keeping it real’-narrative, distilling similar societal concerns, if it does not inherently fit into its direct geographical, socio- economical and historical signifying quality? After years of glocalization and possible appropriation, the sampling of non-African-American film might act as a way to re-appropriate, as the visual sampling of Japanese aesthetics also supposedly did.

The Black Soprano Family I want to straightaway start with one possible way a hip-hop record borrows from cinematic modes of communication through sampling, by describing the film scene quite literally. While Cuban refugees are chantingly rampaging – “Liberta, liberta, liberta” – and and ’s characters are closing in on the unfortunate Emilio Rebenga, eerily shouting out his name, you hear Giorgio Moroder’s swell and the fences get hit by the rioters, in a crucial scene of ’s (1983), about drug kingpin Tony Montana. All these sounds are heard in the introductory sample for WestsideGunn and Conway’s, as the rap-duo Hall ‘n Nash, in the song “Rahbannga”. Their LP starts with a short introduction, in which a beat is accompanied by the troubling sample of an interview that explicitly accuses the American politics of an equivocal interference in Latin-American drug wars.

44 Right after this confession-like intro-track, the ‘Rebenga scene’ sets in. This does not only connect the two samples, both commenting on drug-related problems in America, but also constitutes a new visual way of storytelling, especially for those with knowledge of material or hear the sounding recognition of the format. This “visuality” confirms and reinforces the artists’ effort to visually establish a discourse throughout the album, not merely making music but telling their personal narrative and representing themselves as a hip-hop entity. This discourse seems to revolve around America’s history of drug-problems, as well as the personal drug-related crime history of the artists themselves and the people surrounding them. Through this samples they emphasize their discourse: they were given no other opportunity to escape from their bleak living-situation and no other perspective on ‘liberty’, than to get involved in drug-related criminality. The usage of this Scarface-sample, seems an attempt to identify with the struggles and prosperities of its protagonist, Tony Montana. One might argue that Tony Montana accounts for both a sympathetic justification for and bitter dependency on crime to keep ones head above water, in what is supposed to be an “American Dream”. The cry for ‘liberta’, being financial and existential freedom, is what Hall ‘n Nash desperately desire. Moreover, this specific scene demonstrates the hard measures that Montana and Hall ‘n Nash are willing to take to gather this ‘liberta’. There is hell to pay and in Montana’s case, and possibly Hall ‘n Nash’, even murder doesn’t seem to be off the table. Through this very specific scene, the rap duo is trying to authenticate their own personas en where they come from, but not by using a sample close to home. The sample tells the story of a Cuban immigrant, in a film of a white director. Hall ‘n Nash are ‘keeping it real’, while re-using material that is not theirs, nor comes from their own cultural background. Scarface is a variation of the immigrant-film. Its dialogue and sound- effects are widely sampled22. In a later sequence of the film Tony kills his closest

22 A lot of quotes from the movie are interpolated in rap songs. Tony Montana at one time utters: ‘all I have in this world, is my balls and my word and I break ‘m for no one’. This little sentence is literally re-used by on the Jay Z

45 friend, the one with whom he started his American life, violating his postulated loyalty. Jay-Z refers to this broken bond as he raps “Bring it On” of the same album:

‘Can’t do for dolo had to turn away when Tony killed Manolo That’s real, mixed feelings like a mulatto’

If aware of Jay-Z’s drug activities, one can interpret these lines as recognition of what this scene depicts, and how the criminal life badly affects personal relationships. Jay Z’s words resonate resentment, mourning and the inability to be alone (‘dolo’). He nuances existing stereotype of ill-spirited, ill-considered demeanors of the hip-hop’s narrative about a criminal, disruptive lifestyle that some critics have – as hip-hoppers (pre-)supposedly are considered “young black men who [are] literally “wild” and menacing” by some (Morgan & Bennett, 189). The Scarface-reference is in this case used as an outward message to critique hip-hop’s stereotype. In another example, Benny The Butcher samples images of Scarface on his most recent album, The Plugs23 I Met (2019), of which one song already was already mentioned earlier in this thesis. Benny and other featured rappers talk openheartedly about their lives as either drug dealers or drug users. The album starts with a speech from black civil activist Omali Yeshitela, on which he utters a metaphor of a wolf, who gets tricked into licking a blade, after which he asks:

‘Do you blame the wolf for tryin’ to eat?’ Or do you blame the person that put the knife in the ice?’

track “Coming of Age” (1996), by A$AP Rocky in “Max B” (2015), and directly sampled and heard throughout ’ “Scarface” (1989).

23 ‘Plug’ is slang for the big drug source from which the smaller dealers get their goods to distribute.

46 This is a metaphor that criticizes the role of the ‘imperialist’, white government of America, for its role in the drug distribution in the poor urban areas, causing mass drug-abuse and an enormous rise in criminality in those neighborhoods. Benny is a child of this time and became a dealer – even to his own mother. This is similar to the substratum theme of Scarface, in which Tony Montana basically poisons his own minority neighborhood to be successful.

The scene depicted on Benny’s album cover is when … but also the grave and dangerous Tony meets the opium plantation owner, thus gets consequences of the business – the man that introduced to even more influential ‘plugs’, sees a gets hung from the helicopter in front of Tony’s possible bright future… eyes. Both shots are taken from the movie Scarface .

As it already came forth in the lyrical depiction of the ‘keeping it real’, hip-hop has a tendency to exploit violent and crime-ridden narratives. This adds up logically with the . However, I propose how the sampling of non- African-American gangster film, made in a white film system, adds specific nuance to the narrative that is not to be found in, for example, only Blaxploitation-samples. The Scarface-samples above already demonstrate some ways in which the appropriation occurs as an expression of an inward cultural narratives or outward commentary. The inward cultural narrative mostly revolves around the urban and socio-economic of living, often in the form of a very personal story or narrative. The outward commentary is either critical of the socio-political status quo or matters of stereotyping and appropriation. Italian-American films are one of the more renowned American immigrant film cultures. Their films are widely appropriated by hip-hop artists.

47 Firstly and inwardly, there are cross-reference about strong family ties and loyalty – loyalty to the peers from the neighborhood, to the lifestyle that came with growing up as an Italian/African-American in urban areas, and to one’s ethnic origin. In his book on Italian-American director , Robert Casillo attributes notions of “family (…), loyalty and honour, along with distinctive ideals of manliness” to the Italian-American (crime) stereotype (401). Martin Parker describes the contradiction between high family values, “strong boundaries” and the criminal businesses that seems to be descriptive of mafia, and as such the Italian-American mafia-film, as a “paradox of belonging” (1003). Parker connects the prominence of dinner rituals to this paradox, as “the sharing of a particular sort of food is one of the ways in which solidarity can be performed” (1003). It is hip-hop’s appropriation of this very same juxtaposition – family and dinner scenes next to criminal and violent acts – that imposes this “set of strongly shared values, a blood that is thicker than water, [and] a joyful celebration of life” on the hip-hop narrative – and its criminal or violent stereotypes (Parker, 993). Streetz’ ‘Feasting’ (Street Farmacy, 2018) is preceded by a sample of a notable dinner scene from , after which he raps about various acts of drug abuse and dangerous encounters on the streets of New York. The sampled scene shows how the big pawns of the mafia family are preparing a meal, while incarcerated.24 The scenes express their “ritualistic concern for civilized behavior, preserved even under these conditions at all costs” (Magid, 146). Hip-hop artists like Rome Streetz do not stay away from criminal and violent depictions – being a true part of their ‘keeping it real’ – but use the Italian-American samples to include a more civil and family-oriented nuance to the narrative. Benny the Butcher and his Black Soprano Family base a large part of their appearance on the Italian-American family ties and rituals. This becomes evident through lyrical and audiovisual quotations.

24 It is depicted with such grandeur and exorbitance that a restaurant based a five-course meal on it https://brobible.com/culture/article/goodfellas-inspired- menu-beginnings-restaurant/

48

One of his EP’s goes by the name of Tommy DeVito’s Breakfast25 (2017).

The cover of Butcher on Steroids (2017) respectively show a picture of the Soprano family members sitting in front of Satriale’s Pork Store on the front and a Sopranos dinner at the back.

25 Tommy DeVito is ’s infamous character in Goodfellas. Note that the first track is called ‘Scarface vs. Sosa pt. 1’ and another is called ‘Black Caesar’, after the 1973 Blaxploitation film, released in the UK with the tagline ‘The Godfather of Harlem’.

49

A Friend of Ours (2018) includes an introductory sample of Al Pacino in Donnie Brasco (1997), elaborating on the meaning of the phrase ‘a friend of ours’ to establish the album’s first song and overall theme. The phrase refers to the different variations of loyalty, whereas the overall shows the ambiguous and thin line between right and wrong. Following up on the sample, Benny raps:

‘We’re real mob guys With real mob ties When they took Machine Gun Black, We all cried’

Machine Gun Black is Benny’s murdered brother. The mention of the crying again refers to their strong family ties, all hurt by the loss of a member, while nuancing stereotypes about hardness and masculinity.26

26 In a next verse line, Benny conveys another outward message, in line with the ambiguity of Donnie Brasco and earlier political comments on the broke socio- economic system of America: ‘I fed my family off of dope, ‘cause the system was biased’. This is the same ambiguity of a lot of newer Italian-American mafia- films, in which the role of the gangster is nuanced, as also being a result of the American socio-economic system.

50

Left: Benny’s album cover Top: Still from the series

As these samples proof, Italian-American films and hip-hop’s culture often both idyllically reminisce on a ties to a distant origin and togetherness. The Godfather was purposely “afforded an idyllic quality by the use of vibrant, almost sensuous colour” (Small, 46). This adds another part of the ‘keeping it real’ to sampling Italian-American films, as the strong ties represented in the samples radiate to hip-hop’s narrative, while not being part of the African-American lineage. As such, the gist of Italian-American culture and hip-hop’s culture are very much alike. The storytelling of Italian-American cinema spiritually and thematically coalesce with the hip-hop narratives, and did so from the earliest films from the start of the 1900s. These early immigrant films “provided a more solemn look at the underside of the immigrant experience, in which slums, poverty, low-paying jobs, and societal prejudice” represented immigrant life and “could be overcome by a commitment to becoming American (…) and the appropriate helping hand from concerned mainstream Americans” (Cortes, 108). Italian-American representation varied from machine-gunned gangsters to struggling families with their hearts at the right places, eventually often falling for illegalities as they lost sight of the American Dream. Moreover, the Italian-Americans fell victim to America’s white-supremacist views just as much. Violence became “the prime Italian-American screen cultural characteristic” (Cortes, 116). From the seventies, and specifically after the commercial en critical acclaim of The

51 Godfather (1972), the stereotype of the violent Italian-American got even more prevalent, as Hollywood set out to exploit its success. “If anyone doubted that being Italian-American was virtually synonymous with having criminal connections (…), The Godfather put those reservations to rest” (Cortes, 118). It is therefore alluring to instinctively explain hip-hop’s use of mafia-samples as a deliberate reference to its similarities in violent and criminal narrative and aesthetics, as well as its focus on severe urban living. However, I do not think this is hip-hop’s sole reason to sample Italian- American cinema, but adds a very strong nuance. The mafia-films also “challenged the myth of the gangster hero as an essentially positive cultural figure” and integrated more “domestic and family life (…) [and] the characterization of (capitalist) society rather than the criminal as the source of violence and exploitation in society” (Keeton, 135). It was a reaction to both the stereotype and the myth, as the mafia-film started to take on a rags-to-riches-to- rags narrative, finding its culmination in the nineties with Goodfellas (1995) and eventually The Sopranos series (1997-2007). “The narrative of Goodfellas begins with (…) childhood romanticization of gangster life and concludes with disillusionment” (Keeton, 135). This twist to the genre adds critical nuance to the stereotypical depictions of violence and crime. Firstly, and as already partly shown in the first part of this chapter, the reason to include violence becomes more a matter of approaching the most realistic portrayal of the trials and tribulations of urban minority life – just like hip-hop’s ‘keeping it real’ includes criminal representations. The nuance goes even further, as writers have “argued that Tony Soprano and his cohorts symbolize the assimilation of into American society (…) [while] several episodes of The Sopranos preserve the idea of Italian ethnicity. (…) Thus, the characters of The Sopranos tend to resist being relegated to the espresso and cappuccino at the local Starbucks and instead seek to secure success without relinquishing their ethnic roots” (Cavallero & Plasketes, 61). This opposition and – assimilation versus staying true to an origin, both used to one’s own benefit – is what hip-hop’s relationship with the appropriation versus and amidst the ‘keeping it real’ precisely entails. Again, and even more so, does the sampling of Italian-American (gangster)films reach farther than mere

52 coincidence in violent stories. Instead it acts as an outward commentary on being stereotyped and appropriated – just as Hollywood did with the Italian- American in film and the whole global music industry seems to do with hip-hop. It also shows how re-appropriating the appropriators, as well as using your own stereotypes might be reinforcing. Mafia-films, and multi-ethnical gangster films in general, have earned appraisal and money for the predominantly white film business. Through and after these acts of appropriation, Italian-Americans, some writers even argue, “have moved into a position of power within the media industries, and their depictions are no longer limited to a series of stereotypes” (Cavallero & Plasketes, 60). The sampling of these Italian-American films is not just a comment on, but a strong demand to a similar move for the African-American population and their societal position and stereotypes. Both Italian-American film characters and the hip-hop culture have an ambiguous affiliation with violence and crime, being a stereotype that is harmful and loathed27, but can also be gratefully exploited. In the newer Italian- American films the violence still exists, but is met with a more careful or critical approach. The same accounts for Hall ‘n Nash’s and Benny the Butcher’s references of Scarface, as they add the social critique and self-reflection to their violent stories. One of the nineties films about Italian-Americans that defies such stereotypes is (1993), directed by . Just as its mafia- predecessors, the film is also a close-up of a past-century minority neighborhood in New York, with all of its ‘typical’ aesthetics, women “as temperamental earth mothers” and the local mobsters (Cortes, 112). But in contradiction to the ‘stereotype’, everyone in the narrative tries to keep the main protagonist away from crime and violence instead. The film also stands out because of its culture- transcending love story28 connecting the segregated black and Italian communities in New York, which is in itself a comment on ethnic stereotypes and racism. In that fashion, the film’s opening sequence is a long take, starting from an aerial viewpoint, watching out over the city of New York, to then slowly

27 28 The main protagonist, an Italian-American boy, falls in love with a African- American girl from another neighborhood. This is not easily accepted, as both ethnic groups often clash in racial conflicts.

53 descend to street-level and take us through a sixties Bronx neighborhood. During this long take one hears the harmonizing – and culture-transcending29 – voices of a doo-wop group, which is at one point visualized by actually filming a quartet under street signs connected to a lamppost. The main protagonist elaborates in a voice-over on the characteristics of growing up in this specific street and period. The song serves as an extra auditory signifier of the time in which the film is taking place, as well as it draws additional attention to the film’s emphasis of place: the Bronx. Also, it is a first hint at the culture-transcending thematic bedding, as the several multi-ethnical doo-wop songs throughout the film are an important motif. This song, ‘Streets of the Bronx’ sung by the partly Italian-American singers from Cool Change, is sampled by Dot Demo, a Soundview, Bronx30 resident, in the song ‘Run Down’. Instead of the voice-over, you hear the voice of Dot Demo and a few others acting a scene in which they drive through the streets, clearly looking for someone. It seems reminiscent of a crucial scene in a Bronx Tale, in which the main protagonist and his friends are driving around town, aiming to confront African-Americans in their neighborhood. The local mob-boss, Sonny, saves the main protagonist, getting him out of the car just in time. The group of Italian-American friends goes on, until eventually an exploding Molotov cocktail kills them all. This is an example of the ambiguity of violence and crime in the later mafia-films. A criminal life lurks on every corner, as seems to remain clean of some acts of criminal compliance when growing up in the streets of the Bronx, but this is a social issue, more than a stereotypical personality trait. Moreover, the fact that ‘the most evil of them all’, Sonny the mob-boss, continually keeps the young protagonist from descending into criminal life31, expresses the ambiguity even stronger. Back to Dot Demo’s song, as he raps:

29 From Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons to The Flamingos: doo-wop is what seemed to coalesce the, in that time, very segregated Americans from Italian and African descent. 30 Soundview is a neighborhood in the South Bronx, where hip-hop originated. 31 It is ironic and sad that the actor, playing the protagonist role, actually descended in drug addiction, burglary and accessory to murder.

54

‘My only choice Was this pen or pistol”

The pen is his possibility to write song texts, make music and partake in the hip- hop culture. In this way, the pen is his Sonny: his way out of a severe criminal lifestyle. Firstly, sampling A Bronx Tale is a nod to Dot Demo’s locality and socio- economic environment. But secondly, and maybe more importantly, it is the appropriation of Italian-American’s cinematic nuance of violence, crime and stereotyping, explained above. As such, it can also be seen as a re-appropriation of one’s own culture that is being stereotyped and appropriated in various ways, often very superficially32. Just as the popular Italian-American films, the supposed focus on masculinity and “the code-of-the-street, hood-thug hip-hop stereotype” is also part of “white corporate control of hip-hop or (…) white supremacist hegemony” and is therefore “harmful” (Jeffries, 149). Molecules & Showbiz’s 2017 album samples the film even more explicitly

left: the movie poster above: the album cover

32 E.g. the Japanese appropriation at page 43.

55

Title, poster and the introductory song are sampled. But this time the doo-wop sample includes the protagonist voice-over:

‘The saddest thing in life Is wasted talent And the choices that you make Will shape your life forever But you can ask anybody in my neighborhood This is just another Bronx tale’

These specific lines form the ‘outro’ of the album, as a final confirmation of the nuancing of both the inward narrative – the individual urban tales that deserve to be told – and the outward commentary: appropriation of a non-African- American cinema to overthrow the “stereotype of the ghetto as [just] “war zone” and the black youth as “criminal,” as well as (…) struggles with notions of masculinity and sexuality,” and “create a counternarrative of life in the inner city” (Perkins, 118).

Afrofuturism: re-appropriating history Similar appropriation of the non-African-American film text often occurs in the Sci-Fi and fantasy genre. These two genres put together with the narrative of the African Diaspora become the amalgam Afrofuturism. This is a fairly new term for the train of thought that seeks to question the way that history is generally written and the future is desired, mostly on the basis of criticizing popular Sci- Fi/fantasy-texts for their “exclusion of people of color” for years (Bould, 177). Bould even reads older texts that do seem more multi-ethnically inclined, like the Marvel comic-series Luke , as possibly harmful: “[as] his superpowers consist of hitting things really hard, while withstanding being hit really hard, he embraces this stereotype of black masculinity” (Bould, 179). However, Afrofuturism does start with placing the African-American at the center of futuristic, fantastical stories.

56 Several African-American musicians have already done so, far before the term of Afrofuturism was coined in the nineties. The funk-moguls from Parliament initiated The Mothership Connection (1975) during the seventies33, Sun Ra put his jazz-records against a backdrop of Egyptian folklore and faraway planets, as he claimed to be an alien from Saturn, and the Afrofuturist aesthetic has been “popping up in hip-hop and neo-soul lyrics” (Womack, 22). In its creative form, Afrofuturism “values the power of creativity and imagination to reinvigorate culture and transcend social limitations” (Womack, 24). In a more philosophical approach, it “seeks to undermine the of linear progress that buttresses Western universalism, rationalism, empiricism, logocentrism, and their standard-bearer: white supremacy” (Rollefson, 84). To succeed as such, an Afrofuturist “appropriates the narrative techniques of science fiction to put a black face on the future” (Yaszek, 297). A lot of studies on the subject try find out how and if Afrofuturist stories and entities represent “conditions of Afrodiasporic experience (“blackness”)” or try to read into non-African- American Sci-Fi and fantastical texts of the past to see whether these “deny the black Atlantic experience” (resp. Van Veen, 8; Yaszek, 299). The post-colonial critique that lies within Afrofuturism seems clear-cut and fits into both the inward narrative of hip-hop and the outward commentary on society. Hip-hop artists are a logical next step in the musical history of Afrofuturism, whereas “artists like Cee-Lo, Del tha Funkee Homosapien, and (…) have laid claim to supersonic identities, interplanetary alter egos, and robotic surrealities” like their African-American predecessors, Sun Ra, Parliament and Afrika Bambaataa. Ken McLeod describes how “space and/or alienation appropriation” generally is used to address “representations of resistance and metaphoric ‘difference’”, something that seems to connect well with a hip-hop narrative (339). In Afrofuturist texts, these space entities often are an aesthetic or narrative distinction that reinforces black culture in a usually white futuristic or fantastical tale. For example, ’s videoclip for her song ‘Next Lifetime’ is set in a futuristic African village, as the “video’s profound insistence on the vitality of blackness in the future goes against almost every

33 Parliament often literally entered the stage by ‘landing their mothership’.

57 kind of popular sci-fi image and narrative (…) because it imagines whole and intact groups of blackfolk thriving in the future” (David, 705). Hip-hop’s aesthetic of literally sampling other material adds even more nuance to this reinforcement of black culture: a non-African-American film-text can be appropriated to tell a story from an African-American point of view, and moreover outwardly criticize certain social inequalities, or try to subvert a certain status quo. As such, the sampling of a white Sci-Fi film bears great similarity to the sampling of Italian-American cinema.34 A hip-hop act of appropriation is, again, an act of meaning and (re-)imagining of the Self. It becomes even more interesting to see how hip-hop’ sampling aligns itself with non-Western Sci-Fi, especially the appropriation of Japanese film. This is not only because it is a switch of focus beyond the United States, but also because the Japanese have a distinctive history of appropriate and being appropriated. A few examples of this entangled relationship with appropriation are: Japan’s album artworks from the eighties were inspired by American pop-art35; the great movie director Akira Kurosawa appropriated the American western genre in Yojimbo (1961), to then fall victim to appropriation by ’s western classic, A Fistful of Dollars (1964) (Rachael Hutchinson in 2007); the far-reaching ways of appropriating hip-hop culture through hair-implants and deliberate misogyny by Japanese36; the offspring of the American occupation in Japanese popular culture, like a very Americanized Japanese jazz-scene (Bourdaghs in 2012). Especially the latter two are intriguing when compared to the hip-hop culture, being the fact that the Japanese have appropriated hip-hop in the past, as well as that both are aligned to a form of ethnic supremacy by white America. Therefore, appropriating Japanese film texts is a critique on the societal consequences of white centrism through the years, as well as a comment on being appropriated and/or

34 E.g., Ultramagnetic MC’s sample of Star War’s ‘Destruction of the Death Star I’ sequence, in Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope (1977). Their 1988 song ‘Break North’ uses the words of Luke Skywalker, as he calls out to the ‘rebel base… rebel base’, to introduce their song. In this song, the rappers themselves call out for ‘some guerilla warfare’. Luke Skywalker fights the hegemonial suppressors of the Star Wars universe. Ultramagnetic MC’s sampling of his words, is the expression of their desire to do the same. 35 See a earlier part of this chapter, about the artwork of albums. 36 See page 43.

58 stereotyped and a resolute act of re-appropriating your own authentic culture – sampling Japanese film is an out-and-outer way to ‘keep it real’. In a videoclip of ’s hit-single ‘Simon Says’ (Internal Affairs, 1999), he sets foot on a barren land, approaching a gigantic, inanimate structure at the horizon. Ambient sounds and otherworldly speedy clouds hover overhead. In the right corner of the screen the words “Into The Struggle” are shown. After he ‘enters’, the song sets off with the furious, almost devilish hits of a brass orchestration. This orchestration is sampled from Akira Ifukube’s soundtrack for Vs. (1992).37 One of MF Doom’s many fantastical alter ego’s, King Geedorah, is named after , one of Godzilla’s arch enemies in its film-universe. On the album Take Me To Your Leader (2003) he samples several films that came out over the years. The album starts with a sample from the film Invasion of the Astro-Monster38 (1965), in which a humanoid alien from Planet X makes first contact with an American and a Japanese astronaut:

‘Follow the light, The light is your guide. I am controller of Planet X And I’ve invited you here to discuss something that’s very important’

The alien delegates ask the two astronauts whether they would send the Earthly monsters, Godzilla and , to come to their planet and help against a big threat – King Ghidorah. In turn, they would rid Earth-people from all diseases – or cancer in the Japanese release. However, the alien group is actually deceivingly planning on turning the monsters against Earth, to conquer the planet and the human race. The last song of the record concludes with another alien message from the same film, telling about how they are computer- controlled and that the future of planet Earth and mankind is at stake.

37 Which is an almost one-to-one remake of Ishiro Honda’s Mothra Vs. Godzilla (1964) with an almost identical soundtrack, including the music piece that Pharoahe Monch sampled. 38 The Great Monster War was its original Japanese name. The ‘Astro-Monster’ in the American moniker refers to King Ghidorah.

59 The artist places himself in the position of the frightening Other, who is threatening the status quo of human life, and plays with themes like subordination, insufficient politics and the threat and consequences of worldly catastrophe, by human hand. The latter is the seminal, recurring theme in the Godzilla franchise. The monster’s ‘attitude’ towards human life differed every decade, from aggressor to patron, but is insurmountable connected to America, and what they left behind after they dropped two atom bombs on Japan, the American occupation by means to impose a democracy and their nuclear bomb tests.39 Firstly, “Godzilla is both the atomic bomb and the strength of the U.S. military” (Vohlidka, 58). The films both criticize parts of American imperialism, while showing remorse for their own actions during the war. In addition, the fact that “some critics and fans have argued whether the 1954 [Godzilla] was a rip-off of the 1953 American film The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms,” and up to this day is being appropriated by American film studios, opens space for discussions about appropriation (Vohlidka, 58). Finally, several films in the Godzilla-franchise have an American protagonist and every film had an English dubbed and severely edited cut that was distributed in The State. Enforcing the English language upon the Japanese actors causes major alterations in text, as “a direct translation might produce and English-language line that is either too long or too short for the amount of lip-moving” (Kalat40). As a result, too often Japanese nuances and ambiguities are lost in translation and, for example, a different attitude towards America can be enforced.

39 For the Japanese public, the films represented the aftermath of the nuclear disasters, inflicted by the Americans at the end of WWII. They were cathartic, insightful and almost therapeutic, while also very critical on the conflicting Japanese mindset that came with a change in power and societal direction after WWII (Mettler, 417). While the 1950s Godzilla was a “symbol for destruction of the atomic bom band the unstoppable military power (…), in the 1960s (…) a new sense of optimism permeated society and Godzilla transitioned into a tamer and friendlier character” (Vohlidka, 57). 40 This book has no page numbers available. The quote is part of chapter 3.

60 King Geedorah’s samples of these Godzilla films41 on his album are, firstly, an attack on America’s suppressive history, both to rest to world and internally to certain ethnicities. The films continually reflect “on mankind’s ability to annihilate itself,” by explicitly focusing on “the aftermath of Gojira’s rampages” or making the alien invaders unmistakably human-like (Mettler, 417). If alien invasion in film causes “understanding how a hegemon conceives of challenge to its authority,” appropriating the role of alien invader is putting oneself forward as the challenger, as King Geedorah does (Yang, 15). Secondly, the appropriation of specifically English dubbed film fragments problematizes the notion of cultural appropriation, and King Geedorah’s role of appropriator. Whether the first Godzilla was an appropriation of an American film in the first place, the films had their fair share of appropriation in the past decades. As such, King Geedorah adheres to the Afrofuturist aesthetic by taking on the role of a space entity to criticize the Western-centrist history and the current status quo of ethnic representation. He also adheres to the hip-hop culture by using appropriation of the Godzilla franchise as his musical expression. By doing this, his role as appropriator is to partly re-appropriate it’s own culture, taking the Japanese films to express his own African-American struggle, while criticizing external power relations.

41 Other films from the Godzilla franchise that are sampled on the album are, amongst others: Godzilla vs. (Jun Fukuda, 1972) Godzilla vs. (Jun Fukuda, 1973) Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah (Kazuki Ōmori. 1991)

61 In conclusion – Japsploitation appropriation

And so, through this Japanese sidestep, we return to Lupin III, the amalgam of worldly cultures and media-intertextuality, coming together in the Japanese animation film-series. Both the characters and stories share trademarks from different (film) cultures. Lupin III’s intuitively and ingeniously defies every law like his great grandfather Arsène or like a Japanese Professor Moriarty, has a quirky but womanizing flair comparable to the various James Bond actors, and maintains a Tom & Jerry or Wile E. Coyote & Roadrunner-like rivalry with Inspector Zenigata. Lupin III himself acknowledges his French ancestry several times. His is sidekick, Jigen Daisuke, was inspired on James Coburn’s role in The Magnificent Seven (1960)42. Two other characters were anchored in Japan’s popular culture. Inspector Zenigata and Lupin’s other partner in crime, Goemon Ishikawa XIII are descendants from, respectively, the novel-character Heiji Zenigata, who fought crime in the Edo period, and the rebellious samurai Ishikawa Goemon – the latter was a samurai that really lived and whose legendary lore tells how he treasures from the rich to distribute wealth among the poor, just a little after Robin Hood was supposed to have done the same. The Mystery of Mamo (1978) takes this set of characters to pyramids in Egypt and an island in the Caribbean; (1979), starts in the Monte Carlo casino and finds its archenemy in the form of the Italian occult, enigmatic and moreover fraud Count of Cagliostro43; and Farewell to Nostradamus (1995) includes the Brazilian national football team. This cultural hodgepodge literally and spiritually brought western flirtations with matters of individuality to Japan, spreading a sense of freedom and global influences in a traditionally strict society that has been predominantly segregated from large parts of the world for centuries. The soundtrack of the various films, by Yuji Ohno & The Explosion Band, exists of a similar hodgepodge of orchestrations combined with funk and jazz sounds, highly recognizable from the (mostly African-)American urban films from the seventies. As Lupin III’s appropriation of other cultures and themes continues in the Americanized film

42 According to TokyoPop reissues of the early Manga in the early 2000s. 43 Who also really existed.

62 score, these sounds have their early predecessor in Blaxploitation films. These films were one of the first films with a “reliance on scores to heighten the excitement of spectacular visual display” (Howell, 3). Popular artists composed original songs that could stand-alone – thus the soundtracks could exist in its own right and was often sold on vinyl. Yuji Ohno did the same for the Lupin series and the various original compositions for Lupin III are in high demand. Moreover, several hip-hop artists have sampled Lupin III’s narrative through Yuji Ohno’s soundtracks:

‘Theme From Lupin III’ (Lupin III (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: Smoke DZA on ‘Still On’ (K.O.N.Y., 2012) ‘Love Theme’ (Lupin III (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: Theory Hazit on ‘Lesson in Power’ (Extra Credit, 2007) Curren$y on ‘J.L.R.’ (The Stoned Immaculate, 2012) on ‘Water Sports’ (Water Sports, 2013) ‘I Miss You Babe, (Yes I Do)’ (Lupin III (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: Jay Worthy and The Alchemist on ‘Miss You’ (Fantasy Island, 2017) ‘Sphinx’ (Lupin the 3rd (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: Joey Fatts on ‘The Wave Matthews Band’ (Chipper Jones Vol. 2, 2013) Jay Worthy and The Alchemist on ‘Four Fifteens’ (Fantasy Island, 2017) ‘Silhouette’ (Lupin III (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: Blak Madeen on ‘See the Light’ (Sacred Defense, 2009) Wu-Syndicate on ‘LaDolce’ (Illustrious, 2019) DJ Skizz on ‘The Foulness’ (Kings From Queens, 2012) ‘Lonely for the Road’ (Lupin III (Original Soundtrack), 1978), sampled by: on ‘Spacejam’ (Zion, 2016) Action Bronson on ‘Big League Chew’ (Big League Chew, 2015) ‘Mysterious Journey’ (Lupin the 3rd 3 OST, 1979), sampled by: Marcus D on ‘Best in Show (Drinks All Around)’ (Simply Complex, 2014)

63 In the sampling of Lupin III’s soundtracks, the previous examples from the mafia and Sci-Fi genres and overarching appropriation theory come together. It is an appropriation of a narrative consisting of various appropriations. It appropriates a film-series that both depicts literal stealing – as the main protagonist and his affiliates are thiefs – and a more philosophical, underlying notion of appropriation – as every aspect of its characters and story seems borrowed from pop-culture and even real history from all over the world. As such, the samples tell the story of the hip-hop artist that appropriates others to renew and retell their personal story and their history. Moreover, the sampling of an appropriated ‘Japsploitation’ soundtrack in a culturally ambiguous film-diegesis is a very literal (re-)appropriation of hip-hop’s authentic ties with a shared African- American past: re-appropriating the appropriations, done by Lupin III, to ‘keep it real’.

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71 Filmography

Aradhana. Shakti Samanta. Shakti Films, 1969.

Blacula. William Crain. American International Pictures, 1972.

Black Caesar. Larry Cohen. American International Pictures, 1973.

Bronx Tale, A. Robert de Niro. Savoy Pictures, 1993.

Crooklyn. Spike Lee. , 1994.

Donnie Brasco. Mike Newell. TriStar Pictures, 1997.

Education of Sonny Carson, The. Michael Campus. Paramount Pictures, 1974.

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Jeff Hughes. Paramount Pictures, 1986.

Fistful of Dollars, A. Sergio Leone. Unidis, 1964.

Godfather, The. . Paramount Pictures, 1972.

Godfather Part II, The. Francis Ford Coppola. Paramount Pictures, 1974.

Godzilla vs. Gigan. Jun Fukuda. Toho Pictures, 1972.

Godzilla vs. King Ghidorah. Toho Pictures, 1991.

Godzilla vs. Megalon. Jun Fukuda. Toho Pictures, 1973.

Godzilla Vs. Mothra. Takao Okawara. Toho Pictures, 1992.

Goodfellas. Martin Scorsese. Warner Bros., 1995.

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Hare Rama Hare Krishna. Dev Anand, 1971.

Invasion of the Astro-Monster. Toho Pictures, 1965 (Japan), Maron Films (1970). Lupin III: Farewell to Nostradamus. Shunya Itō and Takeshi Shirato. Toho Pictures, 1995.

Lupin III: The Castle of Cagliostro. . Toho Pictures, 1979.

Lupin III: The Mystery of Mamo. Sōji Yoshikawa. Toho Pictures, 1978.

Magnificent Seven, The. John Sturges. United Artists, 1960.

Mothra vs. Godzilla. Ishirô Honda. 1964.

Popeye.

Scarface. Brian da Palma. Universal Pictures, 1983.

Sopranos, The. David Chase. HBO, 1999 – 2007.

Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. . 20th Century Fox, 1977.

Style Wars. Tony Silver. Public Art Productions, 1983.

Super Fly. Gordon Parks Jr. Warner Bros. Pictures, 1972.

Virgem De Saint Tropez, A. Zygmunt Sulistrowski, 1973.

Wild Style. Charlie Ahearn. Submarine Entertainment, 1983.

Yojimbo. Akira Kurosawa. Toho, 1961.

73 Discography

6 Feet Deep. . Gee Street, 1994.

Apocalypse 91… The Enemy Strikes Black. Public Enemy. , 1991.

ATLiens. OutKast. LaFace, 1996.

At.Long.Last.A$AP. A$AP Rocky. RCA Records, Polo Grounds Music, , A$AP Worldwide, 2015.

Big League Chew. Action Bronson. Not On Label (Action Bronson Self-Released), 2015.

Boss Sauce. Mooch & Futurewave. Brown Bag Money, 2019.

Bronx Tale, A. Cool Change and other various artists. Epix Soundtrax , Tribeca, 1993.

Bronx Tale, A. Molecules & Showbiz. Legion Records, 2017.

Brooklyn’s Finest. Jay-Z. Not On Label (Jay-Z), 2000.

Butcher on Steroids. Benny the Butcher. Black Soprano Family, 2017.

Chipper Jones Vol. 2. Joey Fatts. Yamborghini Records, 2013.

Cold Vein, The. Cannibal Ox. Def Jux, 2001.

Crenshaw. Nipsey Hussle. All Money In No Money Out, 2013.

Critical Beatdown. Ultramagnetic MC’s. Next Plateau, 1988.

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Delirium. Dot Demo. Ultra Nostra, 2019.

D.I.T.C. Studios. D.I.T.C.. Slice-of-Spice, D.I.T.C. Ent., 2016.

Documentary, The. . Aftermath, 2005.

Enta Da Stage. Black Moon. Wreck Records, 1993.

Everything’s Gonna Be Alright. Naughty By Nature. Tommy Boy, 1991.

Extra Credit. Theory Hazit. Hiphop is Music, 2007.

Fantasy Island. Jay Worthy, The Alchemist. ALC Records, 2017.

Fetti. Curren$y, Freddie Gibbs, The Alchemist. ESGN, ALC Records, Jet Life Recordings, Empire, 2018.

Flygod. WestsideGunn. Griselda Records, 2016.

Friend of Ours, A. Benny the Butcher. Black Soprano Family, 2018.

Funkcrusher Plus. . Rawkus, 1997.

Gets Greater Later. Flee Lord. Loyalty over Death, 2019.

Grip It! On That Other Level. Geto Boys. Rap-A-Lot, 1989.

Griselda’s Ghost. WestsideGunn & Conway. Griselda Records, 2015.

Illmatic. Nas. Columbia, 1994.

Illustrious. Wu-Syndicate. Black Stone of Mecca, 2019.

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Internal Affairs. Pharoah Monch. , 1999.

Jealous One’s Envy. Fat Joe. Relativity, 1995.

Kings From Queens. DJ Skizz. Fork And Spoon, 2012.

K.O.N.Y.. Smoke DZA. Not On Label (Smoke DZA Self-Released), 2012.

Lollipops. The Lollipops. International Polydor Production, 1966.

Long Vacation, A. Eiichi Ohtaki. Niagara Records, 1981.

Loss Prevention EP (Deluxe Edition). Heem Stogied. GGBR Records & Tapes, 2017.

Low End Theory, The. A Tribe Called Quest. Jive, 1991.

Lunch Meat. The Alchemist. ALC Records, 2018.

Lupin III (Original Soundtrack). You & The Explosion Band. Satril, 1978.

Lupin The 3rd (Original Soundtrack). You & The Explosion Band. Satril, 1978.

Lupin The 3rd 3 (Original Soundtrack). You & The Explosion Band. Columbia, 1979.

Man in Space With Sounds. Attilio Mineo. Subliminal Sounds, 1962.

Mothership Connection. Parliament. Casablanca, 1975.

No News Is Good News. Phonte Coleman. Music, 2018.

Parallel Worlds. Far East Family Band. MU Land, 1976.

76

Paul’s Boutique. The Beastie Boys. Capitol Records, 1989.

Photos of Ghosts. Premiata Forneria Marconi. Manticore, 1973.

Plugs I Met, The. Benny the Butcher. Griselda Records, 2019.

Reasonable Doubt. Jay-Z. EMI, 1996

Reject 2. Conway. Griselda Records, 2015.

Sacred Defense. Blak Madeen. Traffic, 2009

September Wind, The. Naoya Matsuoka & Wesing. Warner Bros. Records, 1982.

Simply Complex. Marcus D. Absolutzero, 2014.

Stoned Immaculate, The. Curren$y. Warner Bros. Records, 2012.

Straight Outta Compton. N.W.A.. Ruthless Records, 1988.

Street Farmacy. Rome Streetz. Bad Influenyce, 2018.

Take Me To Your Leader. King Geedorah. Recordings, 2003.

Take The Heat Off Me. Boney M.. Hansa International, 1976.

Tical 0: The Prequel. . Def Jam, 2004.

Timeless. Darko Lo & V Don. Serious Soundz, 2018.

To Pimp a Butterfly. Kendrick Lamar. Top Dawg Entertainment, 2015.

77 Tommy DeVito’s Breakfast. Benny the Butcher & Cuns. Tuff Kong Records, 2017.

Water Sports. Action Bronson. Not On Label (Action Bronson Self-Released), 2013.

Welcome 2 Detroit. J Dilla. BBE, 2001.

Zion. 9th Wonder. Jamla, 2016.

ゴジラ VS モスラ = Godzilla Vs. Mothra. Akira Ifukube. Futureland, 1993.

78 APPENDIX

A search for a connection between Blaxploitation films and hip-hop songs, brought about five direct samples of film excerpts from the more commercially acclaimed (1972), while the main theme of its original soundtrack, composed by and going by the same name, was sampled in twenty-three songs.

Screenshot from WhoSampled.com, showing a few of the “connections” the film has, being sampled in songs.

But even more obscure ones are there to be found and verified, like the main movie theme of the Blaxploitation-horror hybrid Blacula (1972; five sample-connections) or the less exploitative, social commentary in The Education of Sonny Carson (1974; twelve sampled film excerpts, see screenshot on previous page). In a similar way, it was possible to distinguish differing samples that stand out against the abundance of Blaxploitation samples. Various samples can be found, linking films like Aradhana (1969) to The Game’s “Put /You on the Game” (The Documentary, 2005) and Hare Rama Hare Krishna (1971) to Method Man’s “What’s Happenin’” (Tical 0: The Prequel, 2004), as well as a comedic relief form in Company Flow’s “Last Good Sleep” (Funkcrusher Plus, 1997) sample of Shelly Duval’s character in Popeye (1980) and Gravediggaz’ 1-800 Suicide (, 1994) ironical use of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off (1986). Large samples chains are found with “Pacino” as a search term, generating 235 samples and interpolations of Al Pacino’s voice (“I’m reloaded, okay!”). The same goes for a total amount of 367 samples of Ennio Morricone

79 scores. But it also dug up this very obscure Brazilian score of the film A Virgem De Saint Tropez (1973), to again illustrate the diversity and depth of movie- based sampling. This is a first, very restricted insight into a mere chunk of hip- hop’s film samples, all of which can be reevaluated in the WhoSampled.

An example of Gravediggaz’ sample of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, as being collected on WhoSampled.com.

The algorithms of intertextuality on WhoSampled.com immediately show other possible sample-chains.

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