DJ COMMUNITY

Religion and Hip-Hop

NAVIGATING THE CONFLICTED RELIGIOUS CONSCIENCE OF THE MOST POPULAR MUSIC IN THE WORLD.

If someone tried to say what he thought of when he heard the term “hip-hop,” he probably wouldn’t respond with “spiritual matters.” But hip-hop music, for all its flaws and achievements, is actually very concerned with deeply spiritual topics—disillusionment, discrimination, aspiration and escapism, issues that run deep in the African-American communities that gave birth to hip-hop culture. Hip-hop, like gospel music that came before it, originally flourished by giving voice to the world and spirituality of oppressed African-Americans. But, despite sharing cultural DNA, the relationship between the worlds of hip-hop and gospel music has become strident and strained, leaving many rappers with one foot in the church and one in the street.

As a result, many rap albums contain an uneasy marriage of dark, gritty street tales (or profane mythologies) and stories of spiritual renewal and hope. “Most of us [rappers] grew up in church and remember these gospel records and that overtone,” says rapper Bernard “Bun B” Freeman, one half of seminal Southern hip-hop duo Underground Kingz (UGK). “It’s almost implicitly understood that, being Southern and Southern Baptist, your mom or your grandmother or someone is going to see what you’re doing and you’re going to be called out on it.”

So, where casual hip-hop fans found Kanye’s 2004 opus, “Jesus Walks,” revolutionary, it was neither surprising nor life-changing for insiders who remember artists like Ma$e, Woody Rock of Dru Hill, DMX, Cheryl “Salt” Wray of Salt-N-Pepa and Reverend Run who have all tried to explore what it might look like for committed Christians to make mainstream hip-hop. The results have been confusing at best—Rev. Run is noted for his inspirational tweets, but DMX is primarily notable for continuing troubles with the law. These artists—and other hip-hop artists who continue their legacy—beg the question: How can hip-hop musicians try to build an authentic faith somewhere between “the block” and the pulpit?

This tension has garnered an increasing amount of attention. Dr. Ralph Basui Watkins, author of Hip-Hop Redemption: Finding God in the Rhythm and the Rhyme, feels this struggle represents an important shift. “What is emerging in hip-hop culture is a new form of faith that is linked to the Christianity of their elders but is lived in the real world. They are dealing with real-life issues outside the confines and restrictions of buildings and institutionalized religion.”

"ARTISTS WHO LOOK TO CHRIST BUT HAVE LYRICS THAT ARE STILL 'GULLY' OR 'HOOD' ARE PROBABLY A TRUER REFLECTION OF THE CHRISTIAN WALK THAN WHAT MORE 'CLEAN' MUSIC MIGHT PROJECT." —DR. RALPH BASUI WATKINS

REDEMPTION AND IMMORALITY ...ON ONE ALBUM?

Freeman attends The Church at Bethel’s Family in southwest Houston. He said his UGK rhyme partner Chad “Pimp C” Butler’s incarceration in 2002 and death five years later had a tremendous impact on his faith. “Initially, I was a very lost soul,” Freeman remembers. “I was concerned about the future of my family, his family and the career we had built. With this came depression, with depression came more drinking and more drugging until I felt like I had almost hit rock bottom spiritually. I came out of it knowing I needed to start anew—a ‘rebirth,’ so to speak.”

After praying to God for direction, Freeman’s wife suggested he find a church home. “I didn’t necessarily need a good preacher but a good house of faith, somewhere I could go and feel comfortable praising and taking in the message without having to dress a certain way just to be a member or where I had to sit in the back row,” he says. “And I did. Pastor [Walter] August has really, really helped me find answers to the questions I was looking for.”

Freeman also says he believes, at times, his work as a rap artist can even be considered “spiritual.” But discerning ears will likewise quickly point out that Trill O.G., Bun B’s most recent, critically acclaimed album, contains positive, motivational tales like “All a Dream,” alongside tales of drugs, money and unscrupulous sex.

“Yes, I do have some music that would probably, in a religious aspect, be indefensible; some of it would even be considered immoral,” Freeman says. “I can agree with that and I can handle that, but that’s not the only message I’ve sent through my music or that you’ll hear in hip-hop.”

It’s a visible struggle echoed in many Christians’ approach to hip-hop. Namely, how can discerning Christians listen to and create music that often tells stories of violence, sexual promiscuity and substance abuse? And that often seems to wallow in those stories? Watkins says the answers aren’t easy, nor are they the same for every believer. “I think as a Christian you have to discern what will be healthy or unhealthy for you mentally,” Watkins says. “And we need to hold hip-hop responsible. We can’t give hip-hop a pass when it’s irresponsible. We have to hold it responsible for its vulgarity, its misogyny. I don’t judge—I listen, and then I say, ‘This is wrong according to my matrix as a Christian.’ But I want to get behind why [rappers are] doing that.”

“In UGK’s music we always talk about, ‘We’re the star, the lights are on us and we’re the center of attention,’ but then when you leave from amongst the people, how do you look at yourself?” Freeman says. “How do you feel about some of the decisions you’ve made? How do you deal with knowing some of the things you’ve done are not in accordance with God’s law? This is the struggle that almost anyone has, in any walk of life, regardless of career. But we, as hip-hop artists, are able to express this confusion within our art and talk about being stuck and not knowing how we’re going to be judged at the end of the road.”

WRESTLING WITH THE (UGLY) TRUTH

The word “trill,” Southern street slang for “true,” is found throughout Bun B’s music and, in this case, being trill carries an unexpected level of vulnerability and tension that faith can bring to hip-hop.

Watkins reflects on this tenuous meeting of faith and personal truth. “We live lives that are full of tension, conflict and what appears to be contradiction. The paradox of the faith is that we are a walking contradiction saved by grace. Artists who look to Christ but have lyrics that are still ‘gully’ or ‘hood’ are probably a truer reflection of the Christian walk than what more ‘clean’ music might project. Hip-hop is willing to handle these tensions, walk with them and embrace the tensions as a part of life and art.

“There’s some grotesque stories that we live; we just might not tell those stories in a public forum,” Watkins continues. “I appreciate that Bun B is willing to expose that tension: ‘Yeah I have these thoughts, but I also have these thoughts.’ ‘I have this good, and I have this bad.’ I would argue that if we could take a snapshot of an average Christian, we would be amazed by what goes through our minds—we just don’t put it on a CD.”

Another artist publicly wrestling with the contradictions of his past and present lifestyle is Gene “Malice” Thornton Jr., one half of the multi-time Grammy-nominated group The Clipse. Once known for trademark witty yet grim rhymes about the cocaine trade, Thornton recently released his autobiography, Wretched, Pitiful, Poor, Blind, and Naked. Since then, “Malice” has taken time away from recording to tour and speak about his spiritual rebirth on several college campuses and community centers under his legal name.

“I like to think that [The Clipse] have always been known to, especially me, to give you both sides of the story,” Thornton says. “And everyone has seen me in my splendor and when everything was great, and I just really feel it would be unfair to not share both sides of the story.”

Thornton also says he doesn’t think he has always lived on the right side of the tension between belief and gangster culture. “I believe God’s plan is perfect,” he muses. “And even when we do things that basically make no sense, if you believe, [there] will definitely be some good to come out of it because He’s going to have His way. As far as regretting things, I try not to harbor any guilt or condemnation, but I would love to think that if I could do it all over again, I would definitely not go the route I went. I would do some things differently.”

Thornton says he still plans to continue to record with his brother (and Clipse partner) Pusha T, but in an interview with RubyHornet.com last year, he said he was considering changing his stage moniker because “the power of the tongue is life and death.” He later added, in a video interview: “I believe you are what you fall under, whether it’s in your subconscious or not. It’s just me trying to clean up a little bit more.”

Listening to Thornton, you can sense an underlying sense of angst. His moniker is not just a stage name— it’s his street name, his reputation, his armor. For a man who moved from poverty to wealth doing things and telling stories that reflect his name, changing from “Malice” to a new name is more than a melodramatic media play. Although Thornton is boldly declaring his faith today, there may be literal implications for his reputation and livelihood, so it is not surprising that he is cautious.

For the Grammy-nominated Malice, or Bun B, who has received the near-impossible “Five Mic” rating in The Source, or Fonzworth Bentley, or Kanye West or any of the other myriad mainstream rappers who have claimed faith, only time will tell the full impact of their choices. In the meantime, they continue to make waves both in and outside the music industry. It is possible for these artists to follow in the footsteps of Rev. Run or Salt of Salt-N-Pepa and create a space where they can maintain their faith and mainstream popularity. It won’t be an easy road, but it is possible.

ADDING SOME STREET TO THE GOSPEL

Meanwhile, somewhat ironically, artists on the other side of the questions—those firmly in the Church—are trying to explore some of the complicated topics their mainstream brethren are known for. Hip-hop artists within the Christian music industry have long faced ambivalence from Contemporary Christian, Black Gospel or mainstream music entities, regardless of potential evangelical impact or musical quality. Despite this hesitant support, some Christian hip-hoppers have found relative success when their lyrics stick to conservative topics, systematic theology and have a strongly evangelical focus. Given these narrow parameters for success, it’s noteworthy when high-profile Christian hip-hoppers decide to challenge the pigeonholes of evangelical hip-hop.

Within the last year, both Courtney “J.R.” Peebles and Amisho “Sho Baraka” Lewis have left their high-profile Christian rap labels (Cross Movement Records and Reach Records, respectively) and decided to broaden their approach, artistically and lyrically—a risky proposition in such a small marketplace.

“I was enslaved to a certain way of thinking just because I wanted to please a certain, different demographic, and I felt I had to escape that for my own purposes,” Lewis says on a recent episode of his podcast. “Other people may not feel that way, which is cool, and I want them to continue to serve in the lane that God has gifted them to do it, but for me—I want to be Joseph. I want to be Daniel.”

Lewis likes to explain this shift by quoting famed troubadour/record producer T-Bone Burnett: “If Jesus is the Light of the World, there are two kinds of songs you can write. You can write songs about the light, or you can write songs about what you can see from the light. That’s what I try to do.”

"HOW DO YOU DEAL WITH KNOWING SOME OF THE THINGS YOU'VE DONE ARE NOT IN ACCORDANCE WITH GOD'S LAW? ... WE, AS HIP-HOP ARTISTS, ARE ABLE TO EXPRESS THIS CONFUSION WITHIN OUR ART AND TALK ABOUT BEING STUCK AND NOT KNOWING HOW WE'RE GOING TO BE JUDGED AT THE END OF THE ROAD." —BERNARD "BUN B" FREEMAN

Watkins reinforces Lewis’ point. “I think ‘holy hiphop’ is growing up,” he says. “It was trying to be so conservative, it was bland. In many ways it came off preachy. I think the artists have the talent, but I think they’re going to have to deal with more complex subjects. They have to embrace the tension of what it means to be a Christian. We have to be honest, transparent and authentic in our struggle.”

Peebles has moved in a similar direction. Since 2006, he was mostly known as the producer of “Jesus Muzik” (one of Christian hip-hop’s biggest hits by the artist Lecrae) and for his John Legend-like R&B talents. Today, he’s crafted a new image as an avant garde urban pop artist. In May 2011, he dropped a free album titled Murray’s Grammar: New Rules. It’s a mixtape-like project that contains original works and reinterpretations of songs from Radiohead, Phoenix, OneRepublic and Drake.

Lewis and Peebles have also stated part of their reason for seeking a mainstream audience is to have the freedom to discuss more mature topics (such as romantic love and social justice) in their music. They feel those types of songs often have trouble finding ears in the traditional Christian music industry, whose content is much more vertically directed.

“While making this transition, there was no one I could talk to about it in my circle. And as you could imagine, coming from one of the most dogmatic Christian labels in existence, it made it a pretty lonely walk,” Peebles says. “Sho was the only person outside of my white, rock friends who shared a similar passion. We would talk about what it would look like for us to take our talents to the mainstream world—to an audience who wouldn’t crucify us for every taboo thing we said and to see how God could use us in a culture that just loved music but were searching for truth at the same time.”

For some, artists like Bun B or J.R. are a welcome respite from the usual categories and approaches to music found in both the mainstream and Christian marketplaces. In his book The Soul of Hip-Hop: Rims, Timbs, and a Cultural Theology, Daniel White Hodge points out that the Gospel will only truly be revolutionary within hip-hop culture when, paraphrasing theologian Reinhold Niebuhr, Christ is truly God of the Sacred and the Profane. Living with this “Divine Encounter” is not easy and rarely occurs in subcultures like hip-hop, or any other sector of our culture for that matter.

“I think Christians can walk alongside these artists [who talk about deeply spiritual matters in their hip-hop] by intently listening to the body of their work,” Watkins reflects. “What we tend to do as Christians is take a song out of context, but if we would sit down and listen to [a discography] or a complete CD, it tells us a story. We have to listen and practice ‘ethical patience’ (a phrase coined by Michael Eric Dyson) to hear the story.

It’s a skill many people are comfortable applying to movies— understanding the entire context of a film instead of judging a single scene—but might not be used to practicing when it comes to hip-hop. Perhaps that kind of patience will make it easier for Christians to accept hip-hop—and for rappers to authentically embrace their music and faith.