This Is A Fuckin’ Business

By Khadija Alam and Rachel Kahn

In 1999, when Yasiin Bey (then-known as Mos Def) and Talib Kweli hear about the killing of Amadou Diallo, they know they have to respond.

A year later, they release Hip Hop for Respect. The EP features 41 rappers, and it gets released when much of New York City is enraged after the four cops who shot Amadou are acquitted.

24 years later, Khadija Alam and Rachel Kahn ask: Why has no one heard Hip Hop for Respect? And does it still matter?

TRANSCRIPT

KHADIJA: A few years ago, H.E.R. won one of the biggest awards at the Grammys: Song of the Year. 

KHADIJA: The song’s called “I Can’t Breathe.” It gets its name from the last words that Eric Garner spoke before he was choked to death by an NYPD officer. 

KHADIJA: H.E.R. released the track less than a month after George Floyd was murdered by Minneapolis police officer Derek Chauvin. It’s part of a long history of musicians using their art to speak out about police brutality. From N.W.A.

KHADIJA: To Kendrick Lamar.

KHADIJA: Back in the 90s, an up-and-coming hip hop duo were doing the same thing. 

KHADIJA: Their names are Yasiin Bey and Talib Kweli. You might know Yasiin as Mos Def, that’s what he was going by back then. Together, the two of them are known as Black Star. 

KHADIJA: Socially conscious hip hop is their bread and butter. So back in 1999, when an unarmed Black man was killed by four white cops in the Bronx, they knew they had to respond. 

KHADIJA: The man’s name was Amadou Diallo. He was 23 years old. The police fired 41 shots into the doorway where he stood. 19 hit him. The first one likely killed him.

RACHEL: A lot of musicians released songs inspired by Amadou’s death. Wyclef Jean, The Strokes, Roy Campbell Jr, and most famously, Bruce Springsteen.

RACHEL: But Yasiin and Talib’s project was different. It was special — they got 41 artists to come and feature on the EP, and they planned to give the money they made to charity. 

RACHEL: They called the project Hip Hop for Respect. Because this wasn’t just any protest song, this was hip hop’s response. It was coming from people who were the same race as Amadou. Who were close to the same age. Who even lived in the same city — a city that was angry. 

RACHEL: But, you’ve probably never heard of that EP. It never won any awards, it’s not on streaming platforms, and it was barely played on the radio — which was a huge deal back then. 

RACHEL: We spoke to journalists who’ve been covering hip hop for decades — even some of them had never heard of the song. 

RACHEL: But we wanted to know: if an EP brings together over 41 rappers to protest the killing of a Black man by police — but no one hears it — does still it matter? Does Hip Hop for Respect still matter?

KHADIJA: This is Shoe Leather, an investigative podcast that digs up stories from New York City’s past to find out how yesterday’s news affects us today. This season, we’re going back to 1999 to tell the story of Amadou Diallo.

KHADIJA: I’m Khadija Alam.

RACHEL: And I’m Rachel Kahn. This is Shoe Leather season five, After Amadou. You’re listening to This Is A Fuckin’ Business.

BUSINESS IS NOT USUAL

KHADIJA: In the days after Amadou Diallo’s death, Jarret Myer is at work. He runs the record label Rawkus.

KHADIJA: Jarret’s talking about Devin Roberson, who was the head publicist at Rawkus. 

KHADIJA: Rawkus is an independent label, so when the artists care about a cause, Rawkus listens.

KHADIJA: And the label especially cares when those artists are Yasiin Bey and Talib Kweli.

RACHEL: Yasiin and Talib are Rawkus’s rising stars.

RACHEL: In 1998, a year before Amadou’s death, Yasiin and Talib create a duo called Black Star. They release an album: “Mos Def and Talib Kweli are Black Star.” Pretty self explanatory.

RACHEL: Black Star does a style of hip hop called “conscious rap,” or “progressive rap.”

RACHEL: Here’s Yasiin and Talib explaining what that means in an interview in 1999.

RACHEL: But for Talib and Yasiin, even a serious song can be a hit.

RACHEL: The album’s lead single, Definition, reached 60 on the Billboard Hot 100. In the song, Yasiin and Talib rap about the murders of hip hop legends Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G.

RACHEL: I get why the song was a hit. It’s talking about serious issues, like violence in hip hop. But man is it catchy. 

RACHEL: In that song Definition, Yasiin and Talib sample a song called “Stop the Violence.” It was a big hit in the 80’s.

RACHEL: And that’s what Yasiin and Talib aim for: making hits — but not sacrificing meaning to do it. 

RACHEL: So when a young Black man is shot and killed in the South Bronx — the birthplace of Hip Hop — they aren’t gonna keep quiet.  They’re gonna do something about it. 

MAGIC IN THE STUDIO

KHADIJA: In March 1999, a month after Amadou’s death, the four cops who killed him are charged with second-degree murder. A month after that, on April 23, Talib and Yasiin enter Sony Studios in Manhattan to begin recording what would become the EP: Hip Hop for Respect. 

KHADIJA: In tow are dozens of rappers and Organized Noize. They are the iconic production team that flew in all the way from Atlanta. They had already produced hits for Outkast and TLC. Like this one.

KHADIJA: Organized Noize want to make something hot — something big.

KHADIJA: Yasiin and Talib had initially only planned to release one song. But so many artists want to contribute to the project that they end up making four. 

KHADIJA: That’s Rene John-Sandy II. He’s one of the assistant executive producers of Hip Hop for Respect. He was in the studio when everyone started showing up.

KHADIJA: The recording session starts in the morning — and goes until midnight. For the most part, Hip Hop for Respect comes together in that one sprawling studio session. Which is really impressive.

RACHEL: 41 artists. Most of them are from New York. Many of them are huge names. And they’re all in one studio, coming together to make music about an issue that they care about. And it sounds like this.

RACHEL: The song is called One Four Love — it’s the lead single from Hip Hop for Respect. Talib kicks it off with the intro.

RACHEL: Kool G Rap mentions the NYPD’s Street Crime Unit— that’s the police squad who shot Amadou Diallo.

RACHEL: Sporty Thievz, another hip hop duo, rap about being pulled over by cops for no reason.

RACHEL: Shabaam Sahdeeq name drops Amadou and others who were shot and killed in the Bronx by the NYPD.

RACHEL: Pharoahe Monch mentions the protests for Amadou at City Hall.

RACHEL: And everyone on the track comes together for the final chorus

KHADIJA: At Sony Music Studios, on the day they record Hip Hop for Respect, Talib says that making music would be the best way for them to contribute to the protests taking place across the city. 

KHADIJA: And not just any music — but hip hop. Music that began in the place where Amadou Diallo was killed.

FROM BIRTH TO BUSINESS

RACHEL: We’re talking to Dan Charnas. He’s a music journalist, and wrote a book called The Big Payback: The History of the Business of Hip Hop. 

RACHEL: Many trace the birth of hip hop back to one particular party in the South Bronx in 1973. The music for the party was played live by a kid who called himself DJ Kool Herc. Herc was only 18 — it was a Back to School party. 

RACHEL: Like any good DJ, Herc noticed when everybody flocked to the dance floor — it was during the instrumental breaks of the records he played. So using two turntables, he found a way to just play those breaks, and to isolate the beats. 

RACHEL: It was a hit, and soon everybody in the Bronx was doing it. During the breaks, people would dance — hence, breakdancing — and speak to hype up the crowd — rapping. 

RACHEL: You’re probably wondering why we haven’t played you any of this music. That’s because it was all done live, at parties and community events. The first hip hop record didn’t come out for six more years — in 1979.

KHADIJA: Now, it’s the 1980s. 

KHADIJA: Songs like “The Message” by Grandmaster Flash and the Furious Five describe what it feels like. It’s the heyday of the crack epidemic. Much of the South Bronx is rubble after landlords realized they’d make more money off of their buildings if they burned them down for insurance.

KHADIJA: It’s against this background that hip hop is flourishing. It’s developing its voice — outside of the mainstream.

KHADIJA: This is important. Even when it was creative and new and independent, hip hop wasn’t always about politics or struggle. But artists realized that they could get big off of rapping about their lives. And they do get big. 

KHADIJA: As hip hop gets more popular, it’s not operating outside of the music business anymore. In the ’90s, hip hop is the music business.

RACHEL: Here’s where independent labels like Rawkus come in. Rawkus and its artists are releasing different music. They don’t sound like Jay-Z,. Their music is less flashy, more lyrical. It’s like the more political strain of music of the ’80s. When hip hop was trying to “fight the power.” Or, like that song Talib and Yasiin sampled in their first album — “stop the violence.”

RACHEL: It’s not a secret that Rawkus is making a different style of music — the authenticity, or at least the performance of it, is part of their brand. There’s a scene about Rawkus in Brown Sugar, a romantic comedy released in 2002. Brown Sugar is a love story between a hip hip journalist and a record exec who’s fighting with his label — he thinks they prioritize money over talent.

RACHEL: Fun fact: Yasiin Bey plays a side character in the film — a rapper who won’t sign with the main label because it’s too commercial.

RACHEL: So in 1999, there’s a real split in hip hop. And on one side, you’ve got underground rappers like Talib Kweli and Yasiin Bey, working with indie labels like Rawkus.

A PERFECT STORM

RACHEL: It’s February 2000, a year after Amadou Diallo is killed. The trial for the cops who shot him finally reaches a verdict.

RACHEL: Each of the four officers are found not guilty on six charges, including murder and manslaughter. A couple months later, in April Yasiin and Talib finally release their EP: Hip Hop for Respect. 

RACHEL: It was supposed to come out the previous year. But the delay in its release might work in their favor. Because the cops were acquitted, another wave of protests is taking over the city. And protests sometimes have anthems.

RACHEL: They choose this song, One Four Love, as the lead single, the song that came together in one long session.

RACHEL: They also made a music video for it. In the video, the artists rap in the middle of a makeshift shooting range. You can see NYPD vehicles and officers in uniform. Newspaper clippings about Amadou’s death. Photos of him and other Black people killed by the police. Rev. Al Sharpton even makes an appearance, saying the lyrics of the chorus. 

KHADIJA: Jarret Myer, the co-founder of Rawkus, says the video got some play on BET. But they were also hoping the video would be played on TRL.

KHADIJA: Jarret says that MTV was a big supporter of Rawkus. Until it went full blown TRL. Even though we didn’t know what TRL was, it was a huge deal, from its first episode in 1998 to its last one, ten years later. Viewers would vote on which music videos they wanted to watch, making it the definitive countdown of the hottest music videos at that time.

KHADIJA: The single is arguably the most important song on a record. At least, commercially. It’s the song that becomes a music video. More importantly, it’s the song that a record label sends to radio.

KHADIJA: We’ve tried speaking to Talib and Yasiin over the past couple months. We wanted to know about their hopes for Hip Hop for Respect and One Four Love, the lead single. We wanted to know how they measured its success. We made it through to their managers. But that’s about it.

KHADIJA: Spoiler alert: We got none. But Talib has his own podcast, People’s Party with Talib Kweli. Here he is, in 2021, talking about Hip Hop for Respect.

RACHEL: You need to know what Self Destruction is. It’s a little confusing. Remember Stop the Violence — that song that was a big hit in the ’80s? The song Talib and Yasiin sampled in their first album.

RACHEL: One of the artists who wrote that song formed a group called The Stop The Violence Movement in the late ‘80s after a young fan was killed at one of their shows. They released a song called Self Destruction. 

RACHEL: Self Destruction was a huge success: It brought together a bunch of different hip hop stars. It was an anti-violence anthem. And the proceeds were even donated to charity. 

RACHEL: Remind you of anything? Self Destruction inspired a whole generation of rappers — like Talib Kweli.

RACHEL: Despite all the similarities, it turned out that Talib and Yasiin’s Hip Hop for Respect was no Self Destruction.

THE BLAME GAME

KHADIJA: For a song released in 2000, success hinged on one thing: The radio.

KHADIJA: In New York, Hot 97 is an institution. 

KHADIJA: In the early 1990s, the station was struggling. It had switched over from pop to house and dance music, and its ratings were falling. In 1992, Hot 97 started adding hip hop and R&B into their playlist. And things started to turn around. By 1993, the station was New York’s destination for rap music. You can see it in their slogan: Hot 97 is “where hip hop lives.”

KHADIJA: Jarret Myer, the founder of Rawkus, knew that Hot 97 would hold the ticket to their success. 

KHADIJA: We relayed this to Dan Charnas, our hip hop historian.

KHADIJA: The big DJ on Hot 97 was someone named Funkmaster Flex. He would “break” records, which meant he would pick a little-known song and blow it up to a wider audience. He broke Jay-Z’s record in 1996. 

KHADIJA: Flex didn’t break One Four Love. He just didn’t play it that much.  So even with a music video, over 41 rappers, and the fresh injustice of the Amadou Diallo verdict — the song didn’t sell. 

KHADIJA: Things were changing in hip hop culture. But was that the only reason the song never got played? Or was there something else? We decided to ask some hip hop journalists. 

RACHEL: We talked to Gabby Bulgarelli, the senior producer of Louder than a Riot, NPR’s hip hop podcast. We asked Gabby what she thought of the song. 

RACHEL: For most of the people we talked to about Hip Hop for Respect, it was their first time hearing it. In 2000, it wasn’t on the radio. Today, it’s not even on Spotify. This is Ross Scarano — he’s been a music journalist for over a decade.

RACHEL: We went back to Dan Charnas.

RACHEL: So imagine you’re Funkmaster Flex. You’ve got the power to make or break a record. You want to play great music. You, according to Dan Charnas, don’t care too much about politics — at least not more than you care about sound. Do you play One Four Love?

RACHEL: Evidently, no. We tried to get Flex to answer that question himself, but we got no response. 

RACHEL: The project’s failure to take off hit Talib Kweli hard. It changed how he thought about hip hop. Here he is again talking about it on his own podcast: 

RACHEL: To Talib, it’s not really the radio that’s to blame. Or the subject matter. Or the beat, or the features. No one’s to blame, really. It’s just business. 

JUST ONE SOUL

KHADIJA: If a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound? If a project brings together over 41 rappers to protest police brutality — but no one hears it — does it matter?

RACHEL: There’s a story that Talib Kweli tells a lot about Hip Hop for Respect. Here he is telling it on his podcast in 2021.

CREDITS

KHADIJA: Shoe Leather is a production of the Columbia Graduate School of Journalism. This episode was reported, written and produced by me, Khadija Alam.

RACHEL: And me, Rachel Kahn. Joanne Faryon is our executive producer and professor. Rachel Quester and Peter Leonard are our co-professors. Special thanks to Columbia Digital Libraries and Brendan Klinkenberg. 

KHADIJA: Shoe Leather’s theme music — ‘Squeegees’ — is by Ben Lewis,  Doron Zounes and Camille Miller, remixed by Peter Leonard. Other music by Blue Dot Sessions.

RACHEL: Our graphic was created by Indy Scholtens with help from Serena Balani.