Today's gangsta rap ideals have fueled droves of young imitators to replicate a life of digital gunplay in their bedroom studios and sell it for 99 cents a pop on iTunes. But the only difference is that those rappers relaxing in their cul-de-sacs anticipate another day to create m16-inducing wet dreams to impress their friends on Myspace. For Michael Young History, his mayhem-driven existence has come to an end.
After listening to the last track on the album, Lupe Fiasco's The Cool, I was astonished at the way its riveting concept was executed, as it reminded me of the brilliance of Marvin Gaye's What's Going On; which to me not only shines in the plethora of tour de force albums, but Marvin's piece changed the way you listen to music as his songs melt into each other like perfectly edited scenes of soulful vitality. The creation of Michael Young History goes back to Lupe's first album, Food and Liquor. Creating a song called "The Cool", Lupe chronicles a man who digs out of his own grave after being shot and killed on the corner he sold drugs on; who's now presented with a renewed opportunity to reflect on his past and change his life. But as soon as he breaks the terrain he's been buried under with the medallion on his chain, the foremost things taking place in his mind are oral satisfaction and getting back to his corner to make money. Only problem is there's a new block-hugging regime in town, and the lads who have taken over his corner even offer to sell him the same product he had been pushing ever since he could remember. When they become suspicious of his presence, they shoot him dead, sending him right back to the grave he so desperately wanted to get out of. When I heard this melodic anecdote, I knew that Lupe was more than an emcee, he was a storyteller. He added a twist of new journalism to his music, with the essence of the Harlem Renaissance residing in his creative passages. It was no surprise that he decided to turn the foundation of The Cool into a concept album, taking advantage of the primal opportunity of introducing the world to the enigmatic milieu that defines Michael Young History.
I guess I used my creative freedom to curiously map out my own blueprint of Michael Young History's life. I imagined that he was from Village Ghetto Land, the perilous metropolis that Stevie Wonder talked about on his epic opus Songs in the Key of Life; a place that you can still find today in every pocket of America. I imagined the song The Cool was a recurring dream that Michael had had ever since he started selling drugs, knowing that every hand to hand deal he executed could be his last in a city that feasted on irresolute hearts. I imagined his loneliness led to a visit back to his hometown, to catch-up with some of the friends he left behind after taking his destructive empire countrywide. I imagined some of those friends became jealous of Michael's new found infamy, and plotted on ways to take his slaughter-soaked crown; which in turn led to the unfortunate demise of those friends. With his fingerprints on the murder weapon, I imagined a verdict of guilty of all counts, and a bemused-eyed Michael Young History coming to the realization that his love affairs with the streets and the game had finally come to an end.
There are two songs from Lupe's brilliant sophomore work of art that really capture the miserable triumph of Michael Young History's antagonistic voyage, "The Coolest" and "Put You on Game." As I listened to the song "The Coolest," I imagined Michael Young History's shackled hands and feet being escorted by prison guards to a secured room to be interviewed by someone from the BET documentary series American Gangster. After coordinating his thoughts carefully, Michael recounts to his interviewer his relationship with the streets: her cat calls playing like sweet nothings in his ears, her mesmerizing emerald eyes flashing with the promises of fame and fortune. While those promises were all fulfilled, Michael used so much vigor to love his adored streets that he couldn't love anyone else; not the mother of his child nor his firstborn. Even though he admitted that his love for the Lord had been eclipsed by a narcissistic empathy, I find most poignant that in the end, he really never loved himself. As I listened to "Put You on Game," I imagined Michael stopping for a short recess to smoke, taking a long tote from a freshly lit cigarette. Coughing nervously from the nicotine embers, he prepares himself to recite the declaration of devastation that has blossomed from his relationship with the game: from the rape of Africa's resources, to the bullet holes of gunshot victims turning into mouths to eulogize the honor of being a gangster. The game presented Michael a tempting tonic of lout that he just couldn't resist. After condensing his tragic existence into an hour of depraved memories for the interviewer, the shackled Mr. History makes his way back to his lonely cell to await his pending execution. The love that he showed the streets and the game bore fruitless, as this was a scheme that they have run on many like him before. Sacrificing his freedom for the homage he paid to his deadly counselors, they have quickly forgotten his scent and are gleefully roaming the earth to recruit more naive soldiers for their illusory militia. I guess in the end, Michael Young History's dream of The Cool regrettably came true.
Lupe Fiasco's endless notions of ingenuity has single-handedly redefined gangsta rap; but it doesn't seem that hard for Lupe to seamlessly reinvent, as he did it for his own career. It became evident in what is now called "Fiascogate," in which the emcee famously muddled a verse of A Tribe Called Quest's signature song "Electric Relaxation" during a 2007 VH1's Hip-Hop Honors performance. The hip-hop community blasted him, and many so-called conscious rappers disowned him for admitting that he never listened to Tribe's classic album Midnight Marauders. That's when Lupe had to let the cat out of the bag, as he proclaimed that even though he was part of a native tongues rebirth that promoted happy rap, the soundtrack of his upbringing featured the likes of Spice 1, 8 Ball & MJG and The Firm influencing his style. In this day and age of hip-hop, most artists beef up their résumés with tales of drug dealing, gun charges and bullet wounds so that they can be marketable both in the boardroom and in the hood. But Lupe changed the game, as he is a Westside Chicago-getter who knew the facets of street life, but chose instead to put on a pair of wire-rimmed glasses and talk about his love of skateboards, comic books and the video game Street Fighter 2. Even though Lupe's catalog of music features a manifold collection of tones and themes, I think his creation of Michael Young History might be the most important weapon in his arsenal. As many who listen to rap are accustomed to the gruesome stories of brutality in the music without an explanation, Lupe has laid out the call for every artist who relays violence on wax to be responsible for giving all the aspects of a gangster's life; because in real life, committing murder doesn't just constitute as good material for a dope hook.
Gangsta rap has the creation of Michael Young History to thank for its new infusion of genuineness, a genuineness that lost focus when the gritty sonnets of Schoolly D, Boogie Down Productions, N.W.A., Kool G Rap, Tupac Shakur and The Notorious B.I.G. were reduced to middling templates that attracted reckless corporate sponsorship. Hopefully the story of Michael Young History will inspire a realm of emcees to drop their tough guy acts and relay honest life stories that will connect them to numerous people who are existing in livelihoods that are more similar to taking their children to daycare rather than facing a 25 to life bid. If they're still not convinced, they can just pop in a DVD of American Gangster.