Chuck D Talks Narrating ‘Can You Dig It’ Podcast on Hip-Hop’s Historic Roots: ‘This Is the Story Behind the Story’

Steve Knopper
·7 min read
1
  • Oops!
    Something went wrong.
    Please try again later.
  • Oops!
    Something went wrong.
    Please try again later.
  • Oops!
    Something went wrong.
    Please try again later.

The Hip-Hop 50 concerts, museum exhibits, films and lectures this Friday celebrate the anniversary of DJ Kool Herc’s invention of the genre at an Aug. 11, 1973, party in his Bronx apartment rec room. But they mostly do not document the circumstances that led to this event.

Related

Nas photographed on July 11, 2023 in Los Angeles.
Nas photographed on July 11, 2023 in Los Angeles.

Hip-Hop 50: How Nas Orchestrated a Golden Celebration

08/08/2023

In the ’60s, white flight ravaged the Bronx, and New York’s subsequent neglect resulted in widespread fires, crime and street gangs. On Dec. 8, 1971, Cornell “Black Benjie” Benjamin, a leader of the Ghetto Brothers gang, was beaten to death while trying to peacefully resolve a dispute. The tragedy inspired a sort of ceasefire, and a period of creativity set in — which led to onetime gang member Afrika Bambaataa sampling records at house parties, setting the table for DJ Kool Herc.

More from Billboard

Can You Dig It?: A Hip Hop Origin Story, a new, five-episode Audible series, documents this history, with narration by Chuck D of Public Enemy, born on Long Island in 1960. “I was still sitting in the back of my family’s car [at the time], going to the Bronx and Harlem to visit relatives,” remembers the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame emcee, on a half-hour zoom from Atlanta. “I remember how much the city was left for dead, and the people were left for dead. It was a tough time.”

In high spirits due to his 84-year-old mother’s recent hip surgery (“She has no pain today, Bro!”), Chuck discusses Black Benjie, the Ghetto Brothers, Herc, Hip-Hop 50 and what musicians have in common with striking Hollywood writers and actors in the digital age.

At one point in your narration, you say: “This is an American story. This is the American story, from nothing to something. So now you know.” This strikes me as something you might say. How much did you contribute to the writing in Can You Dig It?

Nah. I give credit to the producers and writers. If I saw something that was kind of corny, or trying too much, I wouldn’t probably go there. It was only here and there where I was like, “I could say this a little different.” Mostly, they were doing it well.

What made you agree to this project, and how did it come about?

In the middle of last year, as we were entering Hip-Hop 50, I checked with my managing partner, Laurie Boula: “Listen, I want to be involved in things that challenge hip-hop.” I always have things coming at me, in films and narration and jobs. But I didn’t want to do the same rigamarole. She merged the BBC and the PBS with the Fight the Power: How Hip-Hop Changed the World four-part series [in January]. This time [for Can You Dig It”], at first, I said, “Yeah, but… ”

But when I started unpeeling it, I was like, “Wow, this is the story behind the story.” It was the germination of the seed, the beginnings of hip-hop. We always could talk loosely about “hip-hop started when the gangs stopped, then all of a sudden they used hip-hop.” But those are broad strokes and laced with mythology. This [series] got to the detail of what was what. You could almost smell the fresh paint of the Cross Bronx Expressway over the rubble.

You were a pre-teen, growing up in Long Island, when most of this story was unfolding in the Bronx. How much of it were you aware of at the time?

I’ve got parents from Harlem and relatives all over the metropolitan area – and at that time, in the ’60s, I remember leaving Harlem and wondering when we were going back home to Queens. By the ’70s, you start to see where the destruction and the disintegration of the neighborhoods start to take place, and the Bronx seemed like an unserviced, unkept Harlem. And Harlem wasn’t even serviced in the ’70s! I’m not even talking about the fires — the Fort Apache Bronx — that was the late ’70s, when it was really abandoned. So I have a lot of memories from the Bronx, with mixed reviews.

For me, the revelation was how the death of peacemaker Black Benjie led to peace among the Bronx gangs, which led to a period of creativity, which led to Afrika Bambaataa, himself a gang member, hosting DJ parties. And that opens the door for DJ Kool Herc’s house party. Was that historical cause-and-effect as revelatory for you?

Oh, no question. A lot of times, if the myth is still flying and nobody puts it down, it can turn it into something else: “Oh, man, I don’t even believe that shit, because it sounds crazy.” It’s important to put that stuff into some kind of paper. When you come into the written fact of the matter, you pay a true respect to those people that paid the price. This documentary highlights what they all tried to do afterwards — keep the peace. The fact that it comes before the Holy Trinity [of hip-hop] — Kool Herc, Bambaataa, [and] later on Grandmaster Flash — is a great story to tell.

What do you think of the Hip-Hop 50 celebrations and events so far? 

It’s rather incomplete. It’s disjointed in a lot of ways. But I’m not going to take anything away from the attempts. I’m a board member of the Hip Hop Alliance. I’m involved with [rapper] KRS-One throwing a free event at 1520 Sedgwick. I’m getting a rental car and pulling up at a lot of events and getting on the mic and saluting it. It’s really the opposite of what’s happening corporately. I plan to do some work at Yankee Stadium, too. But it does feel crammed. My thought is, Hip-Hop 49 was a concern, and Hip-Hop 51 is a concern. If this was rock ‘n’ roll, they curate, they cultivate everything. There is a need for a union. We recognize the actors and writers going on strike — we’re connected to that, because we have grievances and things that should have been done by elders in this art form.

Have you seen this clip going around of Snoop Dogg, criticizing the economics of music streaming? What do you think about that?

It’s like artificial intelligence — it’s a dance. Technology giveth and it taketh away. If you know where to giveth, then you should be able to be open-eyed enough to know that it can chew your whole environment [up] if you don’t figure out what your dance is going to be with it.

The minute you engage in putting a needle on a piece of vinyl, now you’re into the record business. The fact that we’re doing this interview that comes through zoom on my Apple laptop through my AT&T wiring — you’ve just got to know you’re in the jungle sometimes, you gotta keep from going under. And Hollywood — the writers, the actors — they knew what they were getting involved with. Or maybe they didn’t. But the minute you sign a contract to get into a business: “OK, now you’re a thespian on stage, but now you’re taking it into the area of two-dimensional distribution,” look out! What seems to be like grass is really green on one side, on the other side, you find out it’s a minefield. It’s like, “Wow, initially it was dope! I got in here!” – but now I find out the thing that got me more money in my contract has now got a back end that’s going to come firing at me.

The average musician … was just like, “Man, is my music getting to people?” You find out, “Wow, I’m really in a different jungle here.” That’s what a lot of the actors and actresses have found out. Now they talk about streaming – but, yo, the minute that protest should have happened was the minute somebody said they’re going to bring your movie to a phone.

You referred to renting a car. I can’t resist asking: Do you request a ’98 Oldsmobile?

Oh, hell, no! I ask for a small. Especially in New York City. The smaller the better, ’cause you’ve got to park. Toyota Corollas usually work. Kias work. When you drive in the city, don’t get nothing outlandish. That’s a New York City rule from way back: Don’t stand out. Fit in.

Best of Billboard

Click here to read the full article.