Disappearing Acts: The Decline Of Hip Hop Groups
Lackluster sales and the appeal of a solo career may mean large crews and "super-groups" have replaced traditional two and three member Hip Hop groups.
Try to name all of your favorite Rap groups from the ‘80s and ‘90s.
Instinctively, most of us can rattle off enough names to run out of breath before actually needing to think. Acts such as Group Home and Camp Lo inevitably slip your mind. A fleeting thought of The Pharcyde somehow reminds you of Tha Alkaholiks, and then, “Where the hell is my Dogg Food album?” A kid in New Jersey might favor The Artifacts, while my Shaolinian primacy demands greater respect for The UMCs.
Now try to list your favorite groups from any time after 2000. Need a minute?
Don’t even bother. Just accept the grim, Twilight Zone-ish reality. It’s about time we acknowledge this 11-year dearth of new groups in the genre that gave us Run-DMC, Outkast, and Cypress Hill.
Despite the presence of some captivating talents such as Elzhi (a former member of the beloved Detroit collective Slum Village), Lupe Fiasco, and Hopsin,
an undeniable sense of dissatisfaction pervades much of Hip Hop’s core
audience these days. Knee-jerk, stuck-in-the-‘90s traditionalists
(myself included, to an extent) often attribute that lingering
disenchantment to an abundance of superficial subject matter and
simplistic rhymes. But the artists mentioned above, and a few not
mentioned here, easily nullify such thoughts about the current scene.
Nevermind
a debate about the substance and standards of one era versus another.
It’s not about preference-based conclusions; it’s about Hip Hop missing
something tangible—one of its most distinct, elemental aspects. This
unprecedented void of traditional Hip Hop groups provides an
explanation, a partial one at least, for the perception of inferior
quality. Books and Drayz might have had successful solo careers, but would any Das Efx fan want to live in a world without Straight Up Sewaside or Hold It Down? H.N.I.C. was a dope album, but right now an estranged Mobb Deep might be cheating us out of another The Infamous or Hell On Earth.
To be fair, we’ve seen the rise of some praiseworthy crews recently, such as Odd Future and Pro Era. But they’re crews, not groups. They have more of a Juice Crew / D.I.T.C. vibe than Wu-Tang, or even Heltah Skeltah. Remember, the Boot Camp Clik collective began as a crew of separate groups.
When I interviewed Slaughterhouse
about four years ago, I realized that the then, newly formed
“supergroup” had actually ended a fairly significant drought of new Rap
groups. As a collaboration of established soloists, we were already
somewhat familiar with their capabilities. Aside from Slaughterhouse and
the above-mentioned crews, Hip Hop hasn’t seen a debut from any
significantly capable group since the Twin Towers still ruled New York
City’s skyline.
Little Brother And The Tradition Of Hip Hop Groups
In August of 2001, rappers Phonte, Big Pooh and producer 9th Wonder, released their debut single, “Speed.” The trio called themselves, Little Brother, because they intended to carry on the tradition of groups likes Public Enemy and De La Soul.
“They were like our big brothers in the game,” Phonte said back in 2003. “Now they got a little brother following in their footsteps and carrying on the tradition of good music.”
In
the years between the Run-DMC era and Little Brother’s emergence, there
was the ‘90s, a decade highlighted by rugged, fiercely poetic duos,
crews, and cliques. Sound evolved and subject matter changed to reflect
the times, but the tradition persisted.
“Grandmaster Flash, Kurtis Blow and them passed the torch to us,” Whodini’s Jalil said in the 1997 film Rhyme & Reason. “Us and Run-DMC, LL Cool J had it, passed it on with Rakim, Public Enemy, Boogie Down Productions...They passed it on to who’s getting it, you got EPMD comin out, then you got A Tribe Called Quest comin’ out…The torch is going on, to the next one and goin’ on.”
