Tupac Amaru Shakur has captured the hearts and minds of a generation. He’s like the Che of hip-hop. You’ll find grandmas wearing his t-shirts in the mall with washed-out capris and open-toed sandals. The dude is mythic. He got jumped at Quad studios by goons in a plot to kill him, was shot a bunch of times and survived. He spit on reporters. Two Atlanta off-duty officers tried to set him up. He shot them and won the trial! Put that in your pipe and smoke it. He was lit. It took him seven full days to die. He didn’t seem to exist, but sizzle. Vibrate on some frequency between rage and pure altruism.
There are all kinds of stories about the man that are basically incredible. Dude was locked up when Me Against The World changed the world. He gave designer Karl Kani his blessing for gratis because they were both black. The son of Panthers, ‘Pac was an artist-warrior. He wrote a book of poems. He was the kind of person you find in comic books. The kind of person who would talk trash to any DC or Marvel villain in any universe. Last year, it came out that his final words to the cops were “fuck you.” But he is a twin star. Christopher Wallace also lost his life in the infamous East Coast/West Coast beef that ruined my childhood.
So it’s obvious why ‘Pac has become the nom de guerre of a realness-starved universe. You watch his interviews on Youtube with real fear. Like, does he know what he’s saying could get him shot? He seemed to shoulder that fear for you. But I’m still upset that Mr. black and ugly as ever, Frank White, Christopher Wallace, is now seen as just a great rapper.
Disclaimer: I’m going to be absolutely one hunna, here. Biggie is my favorite emcee of all-time and I get tight in the chest when people clown the man for getting gunned down before he could put out more classics.
All Eyez On Hip-hop
Look, I don’t have to tell you hip-hop is everywhere. It’s the air you breathe. You imbibe music at a rate unforeseen in human history. But it wasn’t always that way. You used to get punched in the face if you liked P.M. Dawn. You had to keep that alt stuff to yourself. Go anywhere in any neighborhood in Brooklyn (except Brownsville, still don’t go to the Ville) on a Friday night now and you might not find one single person of color, but you will find Chief Keef’s menacing drawl. The black folks don’t even listen to new rap in BK anymore. When I was out there a few weeks ago, everyone was still bumping Jay Z’s Vol. 2 like it was 1998. Hip-hop is post-cool and post-urban. Some say it’s postmodern. They tell me the crooked voice of artists like Lil’ Yachty add a depth of feeling that belies a lightness of being that’s Dada-esque in nature. Sure.
But still, after the dust is settled and everyone says their one or two quotables, ‘Pac is the king of the hill. His style, his persona, his perpetual middle finger up to the sky represents all of the woke-ness we now expect from the world at large. He would have fit in nicely on Twitter. He would have dropped little 140 character poems like psalms. Been out at the front of every slaying and every protest.
No matter how much time passes, his legacy just continues to expand. Journalist, author and snark Khaleesi Kathy Iandoli agrees, “Tupac’s narrative had more layers, considering he was many things: A rapper, poet, activist, actor, all around badass. While Biggie was one of the most prolific rappers in history, his story didn’t get to grow the wings Pac’s did.”
Whatever.
Us Against The World
It bothers me to no end that ‘Pac is the more universally renowned figure. I put my bias out there to my constituents and they batted my hand away like I was being lame. Soren Baker, a legendary journo, author, journalist and founder of Unique Access Ent, which specializes in rap coverage, explained Tupac’s legacy this way, “Tupac sold more albums than Biggie, and while Biggie was successful putting out other artists, Tupac was successful in that area as well, and was also a successful actor who was earning critical acclaim from mainstream outlets for his performance in film. Biggie, on the other hand, was just a figure in rap, for the most part.”
Ouch. How dare people talk about Biggie this way? All of his verses resonate with me in a way that Tupac’s didn’t. I appreciated the complexity of Tupac the person. It seemed you had no idea who you were getting from one moment to the other. “Dear Mama” and “Keep Your Head Up” were an emcee acting as an ally to women at a time when those were tough to find. But, at the same time, he gave you “I Don’t Give A Fuck.” Openly expressing the angst all black males felt toward the police. So what? I’d be on the bus really pouting, my 14-year-old-self listening to “Ready To Die” like, does this amazing body of work mean nothing? I appreciated B.I.G the rapper. The metaphors, the technical prowess of his rhymes, the way he went deep into the recesses of his mind to expose the dual nature of reality. When Lord Finesse looped Miles Davis “Lonely Fire” for “Suicidal Thoughts” and Biggie spoke on how masculinity had destroyed him, I literally felt like I was the last person in a once overcrowded city looking up at the stars. But despite his dark tendencies, street tales, and storytelling, B.I.G. was not a personality.
The Difference Between Tupac and Biggie
I suppose the main difference between ‘Pac and Big is that the former represented something larger than himself. I get that now in my old age, and I appreciate it. For all of B.I.G’s talent, he was too focused on being cool. In contrast, Shakur was all over the place. Putting all of his immense vulnerability on display for the world to see. I suppose, now, I can see how that would be generation-defining stuff. He was raw. A nerve laid bare for people to pick at and find themselves in.
On the other hand, for B.I.G, when we finally found out who he was talking about on “I Got A Story To Tell,” I felt nothing. So there it is. For all of ‘Pac’s feats and the roller coaster that was his life, he’s an icon because he gave you everything he had.
He transcended his own persona. Emcee Fong Sai-U explains it this way, “His persona became real [and] Biggie was on the sidelines, watching.” I guess I have to give it up now. On the basis of what he gave to the world, not just the rap world, Tupac deserves his iconic status. And, as Kathy reminded me, the crown of hip-hop is still technically in a Brooklyn rapper’s hands.
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