THE CONNECTION BETWEEN GENTRIFICATION AND

THE DEMISE OF NEW-YORK HIP-HOP

There has been much chatter in the rap world in recent months about how New York -- the birthplace of hip-hop and its epicenter for many years after -- has become increasingly irrelevant, with Southern artists ruling the charts and homegrown talent barely making a dent. It is true that Busta Rhymes generated a bit of heat this year, Ghostface came back pretty hard, and Nas has a new one soon -- maybe even Jay-Z before 2006 is over. (50 Cent is generally not classified as a NY rapper, even though he's from Queens, because his flow doesn't share the same regional characteristics.) But there's no denying that the Big Apple is on serious life support at the moment, struggling to compete with all the T.I.s and Young Jeezys.

I have heard numerous explanations for the demise of New York hip-hop. Some say that the burden of tradition creates a rigid purism that stifles artists here from exploring new sounds. There may be some truth to that. Take DJ Premier, whom I idolize. He personifies the NY aesthetic, but the latest Gang Starr album (2003's The Ownerz) was predictable, even somewhat boring. Most listeners don't literally want to go back to 1991 or 1988 (considered the two best years in hip-hop); they just want a return to the quality, creativity, and diversity of the Golden Era. But that era is so intimately tied up with New York that maybe a lot of Gotham artists just can't help but sound dated. It makes me wonder whether an act as innovative as Outkast could have emerged from here? But getting back to Preem, I also find it ironic that some of his most exciting recent productions, in my opinion, were for Southern artists Devin the Dude ("Doobie Ashtray") and Cee-Lo ("Evening News").

I've also heard it argued that restrictive sampling laws are to blame for putting a clamp on producers like Pete Rock and Large Professor, whose sample-based sounds are the hallmark of New York hip-hop (whereas most Southern rap is synth-based). OK, that makes some sense. Unless you've got Kanye-type money, you'll end up blowing your entire budget on sample clearance. Still, as much as I believe that there is an art to sampling, this argument strikes me as kind of an excuse for lack of creativity.

Suprisingly, I haven't really heard anyone make the seemingly obvious connection between New York's dwindling status in the hip-hop sphere and the city's simultaneous ascent in the corporate and real-estate spheres. It's no great revelation that rap music is heavily occupied with notions of authenticity and that a big part of its allure is that it comes from "the streets." So what does it mean to its young consumers across the country that NYC is now one of the safest big cities in America? What does it mean to them, for example, that the block where Biggie grew up is now home to million dollar brownstones? Are they aware of these facts, and does that play in to their perception of NY hip-hop?

In the early- to mid-Nineties, before I moved here, I admit that my image of the city was partially influenced by the grimy descriptions I heard in songs by Wu-Tang, Smif n Wessun, etc. They spoke of blunts, Timbaland boots, pissy project hallways. Nas and Mobb Deep painted a gritty picture of life in Queensbridge. (Then, when I finally came to New York, my first apartment was in Park Slope, which was slightly different, LOL!)

But my point is, maybe hip-hop fans today just don't quite buy it when New York rappers rhyme about their violent 'hoods and so on? Obviously, I realize the city isn't all Starbucks and sushi -- but by any measure, the gentrification we've seen in the last ten years has been extraordinary. And I think the word is out in the rest of the country. The perception, whether true or not, is that NYC just isn't that "hard" anymore. Could it be that this is the real reason the average American kid is now looking elsewhere -- to New Orleans, Houston, Atlanta -- for his rap authenticity fix?