Beats, Rhymes, and Life: Not a Documentary, But An Irresponsible Disservice

Recently, I had the chance to view Beats, Rhymes, and Life: The Travels of A Tribe Called Quest, the new documentary directed by actor Michael Rapaport. You’ll likely remember him from his roles as “Zack” in Zebrahead (1992); “Remy” from Higher Learning (1995); or from Spike Lee’s film Bamboozled (2000); where he portrayed “Mr. Thomas Dunwitty,” the racist, self-centered, and egotistical television producer who believed he knew black people better than they knew themselves.

Like most folk my age who love hip hop—the culture and the music — I have an affinity for what A Tribe Called Quest (ATCQ) brought to our lives. For a self-professed “brainy jock” (cool term for nerd who played sports) like myself, ATCQ was part of my life’s soundtrack. I distinctly remember when each album dropped and what I was doing when the day I purchased it. All five albums mean something different to me—though some are better than others. Like most fans I can have an intense debate about why I believe The Low End Theory was the masterpiece of their discography vs. Midnight Marauders, much in the same way folk argue over sports or politics. Thus, it was with the greatest anticipation I went to see Rapaport’s documentary.

I entered the theater like a Star Wars or Harry Potter fan—all decked out in my ATCQ gear, rocking my Midnight Marauders tee and a super fresh pair of Air Jordan Retro Ones that were dedicated to the group (my most coveted pair of sneaks). I sat down ready to see what I hoped was a reliving of some old musical memories and a telling of Tribe’s story by another fan—Michael Rapaport. Unfortunately, from the very outset of the film Rapaport shows his hand. He is out to sell the story of family feud and personal beef. The documentary begins by looking at the rift between Q-Tip and Phife—an unfortunate, sad, and self-serving mistake.



As a historian, this is a mistake I’m intimately familiar with and must always be cautious of in my own writing. As juicy as personal details are, one always has to resist the temptation to allow them to drive the analysis. Why? Because history is not about sensationalizing subject(s). When that occurs it ceases to be history and becomes tabloid-esque sensationalism. For instance, many have critiqued and criticized the late Professor Manning Marable for his recent biography of Malcolm X entitled, Malcolm X: A Life of Reinvention. Scores of folk find Marable’s scholarship slanderous because they believe he is sensationalizing aspects of Brother Malcolm’s private life. I’m not saying exclude private details or conflicts, because they are important, but they should not be the driving force of the story you tell.

Documentarians face a similar challenge. Like historians, they have to be able to provide a narrative that explores the nuances of their subject without allowing them to overpower the larger story. A good documentary should leave the viewer with a fuller understanding of the inner workings and outside influences that inform why this subject’s story is worthy of telling. It is not about taking sides, but providing a three-dimensional view of your subject matter.

Q-Tip and Phife’s relationship, or the complex nature of it, is no secret. It has never been. Any fan has known that for years. We all have family issues. We all have functional levels of dysfunction. Those issues however, do not have to be put on display to understand how the persons in that family interact. Instead, Rapaport seems to have let his fictional character “Mr. Dunwitty” take charge of directing.

It was great to reminisce about A Tribe Called Quest, but Mr. Rapaport did Q-Tip, Phife Dawg, Jarobi, Ali Shaheed Muhammad, and hip hop a disservice. What he directed is not a documentary. Sensationalized, with a few moments of welcome nostalgia for fans like myself, it is a patchwork quilt of a film —more akin to reality shows on the family of Viacom networks.

Part of the problem is Rapaport’s use of external sources — or lack there of. I found it incredibly odd that he used not one journalist or scholar that could capture the broader implications of what the group was able to create and the indelible mark they left on hip hop and popular culture. Hell, I would have even liked to hear from fans on the street giving their reflections of the group during their 1990s reign.

The absence of journalists from The Source, VIBE, or The Village Voice from that era is at the very least irresponsible. During the late 1980s and the entire decade of the 1990s an argument can be made that journalists were just as integral to the development and analysis of hip-hop as the artists themselves. Their insight, even on a small scale, would have been a great supplement to artist interviews and help to contextualize the Native Tongues Movement.

One of the gross missteps of the movie, and my biggest critique, is that Rapaport did not devote more time to the most important thing about ATCQ — the music. More time should have been spent examining the five albums that A Tribe Called Quest created. What Rapaport gave us was akin to making a documentary about The Beatles that focuses solely on the deteriorating relationship between Paul McCartney and John Lennon. If Rapaport set out to make a film about Q-Tip and Phife’s relationship, then mission accomplished. If the goal was to make a documentary about A Tribe Called Quest, then it is a miserable failure.

"I'll Always Love My Mama"

Music tends to be the one thing that can always serve as a muse for me, but I guess that is what music is supposed to do in the first place, right? As I went through my usual Sunday morning ritual of reading newspapers and simultaneously watching CBS Sunday Morning, I had one of those special moments. I don’t know and can’t remember what the context was for the song, but I heard The Intruders’ 1973 classic, “I’ll Always Love My Mama.”

Immediately a flurry of emotions and memories went through my mind. I’ll get to those in a minute, but it was great that on Mother’s Day the first voice I heard and spoke with was my own mother, Norma Mitchell. I tried to wait to call until I thought she might be up, for I didn’t want to disturb her, not today or any day this week, as her birthday was just 72 hours ago. The first week of May tends to be a celebratory time for my family—celebrating "Mama."

Though our conversation was brief, as Mama was rushing off to church, it was just what her son needed as he prepared for his own day of engaging in the life of the mind—as a graduate student. My mother and I have, since I’ve been in graduate school, been closer than we’ve ever been. At my worst and best moments she’s continually been the warm, reflective, calm voice to my erratic, tense, anxiety-filled existence during my academic sojourn.   From kindergarten to what will soon be three graduate degrees later, she helps me keep perspective and peace--in mind and spirit. I don’t know how, but she does.

Now about those memories I mentioned earlier…my mother is a nurse and I will never forget her working a twelve hour shift then coming home to prepare dinner, take a few moments to sit down as my father asked how was work and a low rumble erupted from her mouth almost inaudible, but you definitely could sense the tenseness of her day. Afterward she’d make sure my sister, then a toddler, was in bed and then she’d look at me and tell me it was time for flash cards.  I used to cringe when she mentioned those flashcards. I would deliberately eat my dinner slow to take my mind off what was coming after I finished. 

Now, let me tell you that those damn flashcards were the bane of my existence—an anathema to my spirit a kid. You remember those multiplication cards? I’m sure you do.  My mother would drill me over those cards until I had them memorized. As I would start to get tired and irritated wanting to just quit and go to bed, she pushed me.  Tears would well up in my eyes out of frustration.  I wondered to myself, “Why was I being subjected to this harsh treatment?” Of course it wasn’t harsh, but it was maternal dedication. My mother was still in her uniform from work as she continued to drill me. Once we finished she gave me a hug that only a mother can give her son and it all in some weird, but marvelous way, in my young mind seemed worth it. It was.

As I started high school my mother was the one who would wake me up after I had fallen asleep at the dining room table—exhausted physically from basketball practice or work. She’d nudge me and I’d wake up from under a Calculus, Chemistry, or some other book I was now using as a pillow and tell me to go to bed. Such moments are what filled my mind as I heard the Intruder’s tune this morning in a flash.

Yesterday afternoon, I had to make a pretty big professional decision and the person I called immediately was my mother. Just like when I was young she gave careful insight as I contemplated my next move in life. The anxiety I felt subsided and I made my decision. I tried to reach out to some of my mentors and professors, of which I was only able to speak to one. His first words were, “What did your mother say?”  After hearing that I knew that once again my mother was still the awesome woman my father married and the mother that I still marvel at. From making decisions about school to the most mundane things, I’ll call in a second to get her advice. I guess in writing this I forgot about my mother’s love of music, which is the reason I started to write in the first place. It is through my mother that I learned to love music too—she introduced me to everything from Earth, Wind, & Fire to Beethoven, The Beatles, Aretha Franklin, Al Green, Patti LaBelle, Santana, and ironically enough The Intruders. My mother is simply amazing and I am glad, thankful, proud, and humbled to call her “Mama.”

I still hate flashcards though.

It's Bigger Than Basketball: Intra-race Class Antagonisms & Public Discourse

 

March Madness has finally come and gone, much to the bewilderment of college basketball fans like myself. Lost in the hype over what have been thrilling upsets and just great basketball (except for the Championship game) is a controversy of former college basketball greats, Michigan’s Jalen Rose and Duke’s Grant Hill. A couple weeks before the NCAA “Selection Sunday” the passionate responses of two former college basketball superstars took center stage in two of the most widely recognized newspapers in America: The New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. The opt-ed pieces were written after the fallout from the ESPN documentary the “Fab Five” which was produced by Rose, whose comments about Hill, cascaded into a firestorm of opinion pieces and uncomfortable moments on camera and in print.

He Was One of Us

Over the past few days we have been bombarded with images and videos of Dr. King, from his “Normalcy, Never Again” (“I Have a Dream”) speech, to his final public address, “I’ve Been to the Mountaintop.” However, I was surprised to see an image of King making its rounds on the internet (via Twitter) that I had not seen in a long time. The photograph is of King preparing to take a behind the back shot at the eleven ball during a game of pool. From the photo, it looks like he knew what he was doing—this definitely was not the first time Dr. King had held a pool cue in his hands. In reading the comments of those who tweeted and re-tweeted (RT) the photo, many had never seen this particular image of the famous civil rights leader. As I started to follow discussions about the picture, most people really just hinged on how cool it was to see a picture like that of King in that setting, or some mentioned things about the artistry of the photograph. I looked at it, remembering the last time I saw the picture and I began to think about it differently.

What Does Democracy Look Like?

This latest blogpost was taken from a collection of tweets I rattled off in the immediate aftermath of the Arizona shootings. Due to the number of responses I received, and after some careful thought, I compiled my tweets (and a few responses) into an essay of sorts. I’ve edited the tweets as I thought was necessary and also cited some of my “Twitterfolk” in this piece. I look forward to hearing any comments you may have.

With the recent shooting of congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords, I ask the question, “What does democracy look like?” We tend to think of America as the bastion for this system of government, a true personification of the Greek dēmokratia. It is easy believe in the myth of “American exceptionalism” this notion that we are unlike any other nation before or after us. Thus, as the protectors of this system, our government historically has been the champion of making the world safe for democracy. That in mind, an even better question, posed by @NvrComfortable was, “What does our democracy look like?” That is something to consider. What does American democracy look like? At this moment we need to seriously analyze our so-called democratic republic. When fear mongering, ignorance, and hate are allowed to fester like a diseased wound, there are disastrous consequences for us all. When faced with a tragedy such as the Arizona shooting, it tends to bring out all the fringe aspects of our political culture who unfortunately hold even more fervently to warped ideologies of hate afterwards.

Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords pleaded with her fellow Americans in March of 2010 after her offices were attacked in Tucson, Arizona. “It’s really important that we focus on the fact that we have a democratic process, “ she explained. We need to remember that. Now, six people have lost their lives and twelve others have been injured. This was not the time to start spewing more incendiary rhetoric, as some have. That is how we got into this mess in the first place. This is not a Left or Right issue, it is in fact an American one. We need to understand that this is serious. People have lost their lives, and for what?

DOCUMENTARY: "I Am a Man: Dr. King & the Memphis Sanitation Strike"

This documentary gives great context to Dr. King's final public address. Watch. Listen. Share with others.

Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., "I've Seen the Promised Land/I've Been to the Mountaintop" April 3, 1968 (excerpt)

PRESS RELEASE: Africana Under Attack

AFRICANA AT CORNELL UNDER ATTACK: CALL TO ACTION

Provost Kent Fuchs of Cornell University announced on December 1, 2010 his plan to relocate Africana Studies and Research Center within the Arts and Sciences unit and thereby undermine its effectiveness and autonomy in the larger institutional structure.

• There was no consultation with the faculty prior to this decision.
• There was no meeting with students prior to the Provost’s announcement.
• No research evidence was provided to justify this move.
• Africana resources such as budget and faculty lines are in jeopardy of being absorbed by Arts and Sciences.
• Africana will now be open as a free for all for those who know little about the field.
• There has been a revolving cycle of similar attempts from the founding of Africana 41 years ago.The Ph.D., which is offered as a new gift, is already in proposal form and only left to be implemented.
• There was blatant disrespect of Africana faculty in this process.
• The decision added additional stresses to students since it was dropped on them in the last week of school.

Africana has been a leader in the field for over 41 years. The Provost’s decision has implications for the larger field of Africana Studies in general. The Africana Center was established as an inter-college unit reporting to the Provost out of a logic that protected it from being subsumed under other administrative structures. The direct line to the Provost was essential for allowing its independence and self-determination. Provost Fuchs’ action will undo all the work that went into creating one of the most respected Africana Studies departments nationally and internationally.

If you also oppose the Provost’s actions we ask you to contact the Chairman of the Board of Trustees immediately and urge reversal.

We, as members of the Cornell community, adamantly reject this decision, and will actively protest today starting at 1pm. Wearing Black clothing and armbands, we will depart from the Africana Studies and Research Center and march to Day Hall, where we will rally until 3pm.


Contact Information:
Alyssa Clutterbuck grad: (P) 607-592-3380; acc268@cornell.edu
Tia Hicks ’11: (P) 607-229-8451; tmh76@cornell.edu

STATEMENT OF AFRICANA FACULTY IN RESPONSE TO THE PROVOST’S UNILATERAL DECISION TO REORGANIZE THE AFRICANA STUDIES AND RESEARCH CENTER

The faculty of the Africana Studies and Research Center (ASRC) at Cornell University is surprised and appalled by Provost Kent Fuchs’ unilateral decision announced today, December 1, 2010,   to dramatically change the Africana Center’s structure.  There was no consultation with the faculty prior to this decision.  

His approach in explaining his decision to the faculty was patronizing, autocratic, and non-negotiable.  He announced the decision as a fait accompli. It was not based on any empirical research or on any of the prior program reviews of the Africana Center.  He essentially decided to change the structure which will gravely undermine ASRC in the future.  He indicated that he had consulted with other units and individuals but had not given the faculty of Africana the same courtesy and opportunity to deliberate on the specific details of his plan. The Provost acknowledged that this major shift was not due to the current major economic or budgetary situations.  He promised support for a Ph.D. program linked to the administrative structure of the College of Arts and Sciences.  There was already agreement from the external review of the Africana Center in 2006 to proceed with the establishment of a doctoral program without reference to the College of Arts and Sciences.

The faculty of ASRC finds the Provost’s decision unacceptable.  We are concerned about a change of such major proportions taking place at this time.  We asked him for time to respond, to digest his decision, to offer a process of discussion and mutual exchange but this offer was refused at every request. We also have not seen any concrete written proposals of how this change would work. 

This lack of transparency bodes ill for decision making within the university.  That the Provost would approach such a grave issue in this manner and that he was unwilling to engage in a process of discussion over time with the faculty that could produce a mutually agreeable plan and time table for implementation is ominous.

Prof. Robert L. Harris, Jr. has tendered his resignation as Director of the Africana Center based on the agreement at the time of his appointment that he would report directly to the Provost, as has been the administrative arrangement since the inception of the Africana Center. Moreover, he had expressed his strong objection to the Provost about this change and the process by which it was made. The faculty stands in support of the director’s opposition to this type of treatment and the principled position he has taken in this matter.

The Africana Studies and Research Center has a history of functioning and operating with budgetary prudence and stability, integrity and success as an academic unit for more than forty years.  Africana has been a leader in the field and such a decision has implications for the larger field in general.  There are historical reasons why the Africana Center was established as an inter-college unit reporting to the Provost.  Those historical reasons have not changed substantially. 

These ideas are not new and have not proven effective for other departments across the country that  have looked to the Africana Center at Cornell as a model.  This change in administrative structure will weaken the integrity of the Africana Center.  The Provost indicated that he would provide greater financial support for the Africana Center, but that he would have to try to find it.  The Africana Studies faculty had hoped for more concrete discussion of the Provost’s decision and his promises, but he has rushed to judgment and has run roughshod over the faculty.  We reiterate our objection at being treated in this blatantly disrespectful and patronizing manner.