If only the dude had been an "aspiring Elvis impersonator." A "wannabe lounge act," maybe.
But it was a small-time rapper, Amir Crump, who gunned down Metro police Sgt. Henry Prendes February 1, and almost inevitably his crime became rap's fault. We will never know to what degree the domestic abuser's actions that day were motivated by the so-called "gangsta" ethic, although it is telling that he had posed for the cover of his CD with the automatic weapon he would sling into action as Prendes and fellow officers responded to his girlfriend's 911 call. But it might have been no different, say, than a chef grabbing his boning knife in a moment of fury.
Attorney Troy Nkrumah, chairman of the National Hip-Hop Political Convention, told CityLife, "The guy [Crump] wasn't on the job when he did this shooting, so hip-hop really doesn't have anything to do with it."
Well, maybe. But a history of violent and misogynist lyrics, tit-for-tat murders of famous rappers and clashes at concerts certainly color society's impressions. That history influenced Metro Sheriff Bill Young, who last year wrote the Gaming Control Board's enforcement division to suggest that it might be "a legitimate crime prevention strategy" to persuade casinos not to book rap acts. A memo on the GCB's website made reference to Young's letter and in the wake of Crump's actions, it resonated loudly.
Apparently the memo left some in the casino-entertainment world perplexed as to whether it merely advised caution or actively sought the banning of rap acts. But when an elected law-enforcement official and a government body charged with oversight of casinos suggest that casinos should curtail the performance of a type of music, the intent is anything but ambiguous. Government seeking to limit expression is classic censorship. It's why we have a First Amendment. This column was written before Nevada's Board of Regents discussed Regent Stavros Anthony's proposal to ban campus "acts or performances whose purpose is to advocate felony illegal conduct," but even that clearly fails the Supreme Court's "imminent lawless action" standard.
That said, venues that choose not to book rap acts because their owners fear violence, or because they disapprove of the lyrics, are free to do so, just as hip-hop fans are at liberty to abstain from Toby Keith records. As long as government stays out of that "marketplace of ideas" so frequently touted by First Amendment champions, the market can make or ruin anyone. Commentators from varied ethnic and economic backgrounds have called for the isolation of rap that advocates violence or celebrates misogyny, and they have that right, too. It would be refreshing, and useful, if more individuals in the hip-hop community mounted a marketplace soapbox to condemn the vilest voices in their midst.
"Yes, there is a separation between rappers that talk about positive things and don't use a lot of profanity and rappers who use a lot of profanity and negative imagery," Urban Artists founder Isaac Sawyer told the Weekly's Damon Hodge recently. "But it's all art, in my opinion. Even if the young kids aren't talking about positive things, it's still art and they need that form of expression."
Sawyer is right, of course. It might not be good art, but even so it deserves expression. And criticism.
The righteous-minded have attempted to blame entertainment for unwanted behavior for centuries, and their concerns have been mostly ridiculous. It is equally silly, however, to pretend that TV, video games and music have no effect on behavior. Arguing otherwise merely evades a larger issue of cause and effect. Attempts to ban entertainment that might trigger antisocial action typify a society obsessed with eliminating symptoms instead of curing disease. No doubt some angry artists are self-involved whiners, but rap arose for reasons most white, middle-class Beatles fans cannot, or choose not, to understand. Could it be that a violent society produces the sort of entertainment that in turn helps promote more violence? Before we blame rap for Crump's actions, maybe we should ponder why knockoff AK-47s are as likely to be found in suburban homes as high-definition TVs.
But that inquiry involves questioning some comfortable givens of American politics, such as the powerful influence of the National Rifle Association. (Funny how guns don't kill people, but music and games and TV do.) And it might involve looking into how we've structured a society that abandons entire cultures to gang-infested neighborhoods, and their children to inadequate schools.
In the meantime, it is left to people in those targeted entertainment fields to guide artists away from the ugliest ideas. Not to please the censors, but to make better art. As Thinline Records' Chuck Myers told Damon Hodge: "The way we get past all this madness is to come together and teach the kids it's about unity." Good thought. Sorry you won't get much help from our symptom-fighting society.
Chuck Twardy has written for newspapers and magazines for more than 20 years. His website,
www.members.cox.net/theanteroom, has a forum.