By Brandon Perkins
According to all too many people, the only things hip hop inspires are violence and misogyny. Sure, even CNN is quick to tow the old school’s party line, providing a voice for the voiceless (the CNN of the streets, even), but anything less than two decades old is decried as a handbook for hustlers and thugs. One listen to Jay-Z’s “Heart of the City” might change that.
The Bobby “Blue” Bland-sampling song from 2001’s The Blueprint (and most recently the trailer for the film American Gangster), “Heart of the City” is one of the most uplifting pieces of pop-culture, strike that, art in contemporary times. Simultaneously shrugging off doubters (“Sensitive thugs/Y’all need hugs”), pushing for further success (“If the record’s two mil/I’m just trying to move three”) and appreciating life’s simplicities (“I don’t want much, fuck, I drove every car/Some nice cooked food, some nice clean drawers”), it instills self-confidence with reckless abandonment. And that’s just the first verse.
The sheer girth of Jigga’s ability to inspire has produced more than a decade of rap reciters—for better or worse—and an absurd amount of wealth and power for one Shawn Corey Carter. Jay-Z has done a better job recounting his rags to riches story than even Barbara Walters’ and Charlie Rose’s attempts, but if you’ve read two-and-a-half paragraphs of an essay on Jay-Z, you don’t need a recap. The thesis here is this: His inspiring creativity produced power that hip-hop never imagined.
Jay-Z survived martyrdom to become the one MC that every other rapper strives to be and everyone else paid $14.99 to emulate in the seats of their whip. Rocawear launched the ubiquitousness of hip-hop clothing lines and, even if Dame Dash was the push behind it, Jay’s rhymes made the fabrics palatable. Just as Obama has made politics accessible to the hood, Jay-Z put ownership within reach. He continues to inspire the swagger of large business, just as his street king lyrics helped to create every Rick Ross, Juelz Santana, Lil Wayne and, unfortunately, the semantically-depressed derivatives as well.
The God MC put “entrepreneurial” into hip-hop’s vernacular, not just among the artists but the fans, too. Jay smartened up and opened the market up. He made jerseys obsolete and button-ups complete— with just a single line—forcing business attire into rap’s wardrobe. Then he took over the the most prestigious label in hip-hop’s three decade history. But just a few months after his departure from Def Jam— what was billed as a marriage made in heaven—his contributions to that division of Universal Music Group are less than stellar, minus his own records and those of Kanye West.
His next venture is the jaw-dropping, $150 million, 360 deal with Live Nation. On the surface, it could appear that Jay has gone from CEO to employee, with the billions-of-dollars-a-year company running his future recordings, touring and merchandising. However, until the full details come to fruition—probably in the form of some digitally-focused record label (and probably with the blessing endorsements of iTunes and MySpace Music)—the future of Jay’s power is unknown.
Philanthropy may be next. Since his first “retirement,” Jay has held meetings with then UN Secretary General Kofi Annan, pledged $1 million in the wake of Katrina and raised awareness for the global water shortage. True power may lie in the ability to make the world better, and if it’s Mr. Carter’s next play, maybe a few others will follow in his footsteps. That should be something of an inspiration, jockin’ Jay-Z or not.
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