The Last Word

"When I picked that date, I was like, 'Yo, people are going to talk about this so much.' People are going to remember this date.'" So spake Kanye West, remarking on his new album, Graduation, released head to head against 50 Cent's Curtis, in a rap scrum to the top of the charts, accompanied by the normal bellicose chest-thumping one expects from rap feuds. Indicative of the exaggerated importance of this event, the release date that Kanye said people will remember fell on Sept. 11. Hate to break it to you, Kanye, but I'm fairly certain people will remember 9/11 for other reasons. \nAt the same time, Kanye's prophecy came true. I am, after all, writing about the potential crowning of a new king of hip-hop. But one wonders: what's so great about being king?\nThough 50 and Kanye may both claim a desire to hoist the crown, I think both are wary of the title. Like Elvis bloated in Vegas, musical kings don't age well. Observe Diddy peddling Burger King and Jay-Z running his empire ("I'm a business, man"), leaving the real rapping to those schmucks still making music instead of selling product. King of rapping is only a stepping stone to leaving legitimate rapping altogether. There's a reason 50 said he would quit solo work altogether if Kanye won the week's record sales. All the kings of hip-hop either end up in an office (the Dr. Dre model) or in an early grave (the 2Pac model).\nAs more pundits decry the death of hip-hop, it's hard not to feel the genre has run out of thematic fuel. Gangsta rap has reached its logical extreme, with the Clipse documenting the meticulous details of a criminal empire, while "conscious" hip-hop has been blinded by dreams of fame ("First nigga with a Benz and a backpack"). Honestly, the most exciting hip-hop is the self-proclaimed stupidity of hyphy and YouTube videos of dances like walkin' it out and crankin' dat. These songs continue to capture hip-hop's energetic bounce, but where is hip-hop's soul?\nThe problem is not unique to rap. Rock and roll was running out of steam in 1975, but then came Born To Run, exploding across the stereo to revitalize the art. When Paula Abdul and Michael Bolton ruled the charts in 1991, Nevermind brought about the grunge revival to save rock and roll one more time. Where is rap's savior? Is a sole superstar possible in the newly decentralized hip-hop environment, where any kid with a video camera can become a rap phenomenon? In the further diversified scene of contemporary music, it hardly seems to matter who rules an increasingly tiny kingdom. It could very well be Kenny Chesney who outsells both blustering rappers this week.\nStill, for all the funerals for hip-hop, it's easy to forget how fertile the genre remains. The upcoming months promise new albums by Chamillionaire, Big Boi of Outkast, Lupe Fiasco and Lil' Wayne, along with commercial stalwarts like Nelly, all circling the Nov. 13 release of 8 Diagrams, by the re-unified, ODB-less Wu-Tang Clan. Thematically bankrupt or not, the massive, heaving contraption of hip-hop continues to putt along.\nWith this continuing creative drive, does rap need a king at all? Sadly, the vacuum in the heart of hip-hop has hurt it badly. Andre 3000, the genre's most exciting innovator, has wandered off into historical archives, while its past kings have receded to the front office. Just as the '50s needed Elvis and the '60s needed The Beatles as the center of rock, so does hip-hop today need a new center, a new king. \nWill it be 50 Cent or Kanye? Bless them both, but neither fits the bill. Both have been players in the game for too long to truly effect a sea change in hip-hop, save for the release of a colossal historic masterpiece. Neither Curtis nor Graduation qualifies. My prediction? Rap's savior will come from among one of those webcam kids who has heard it all and has something new to say. The next king is just waiting for his cue. So are we.