This is part one of Inside Pulse’s groundbreaking 10-part series on the impact and influence of Tupac Shakur.
The early 1990’s were met with an electric optimism from many young African-Americans. A rebirth of the so-called “Black Pride” efforts, beginning a few years earlier, had led to significant gains in the political, academic and, most visibly, the pop culture arena. Spike Lee was still getting major studio funding for his hit (Do The Right Thing) or miss (Mo Betta Blues) movies, while In Living Color was offering a hilariously “urban” send-up of ensemble comedies.
Shining the spotlight on entertainment, some might argue, trivializes this important cultural period and ignores many of the problems that were still plaguing the Black community. It’s certainly a valid point, but it can also be argued that, looking back, the only African-American gains that were truly sustained 13 years later were in the entertainment field”¦specifically, rap music.
On March 2, 1991, Rodney King became the most famous man in America. More famous than Daddy Bush, more famous than Bill Cosby, more famous than Scott Norwood. The grainy videotape of King and the LAPD garnered sympathy for King, by concerned African-Americans fed up with the system’s abuse of power, as well as sympathy for the cops, by those who viewed King as a disobedient criminal who got what he deserved.
No matter which side of the argument you were on (and believe me, there was no middle ground), it was explicitly obvious where the entirety of the rap populace was siding. Everyone who had ever rocked a Cross-Colors jersey and Malcolm X ball cap was lining up studio time so that they could speak out on the situation.
By the end of 1991, the best of the mainstream post-King albums had already dropped (Ice Cube’s excellent Death Certificate). Yet, despite numerous delays and some last-minute retakes, Tupac Shakur released 2Pacalypse Now. His first album was decidedly uneven. It had its moments”¦and it does include one the best Pac tracks ever, but his mic skills were not fully developed and the production does not stand up well over a decade later.
Still, it’s fascinating to listen to this album today, with an appreciation of the context of the times in which it was made.
Young Black Male – A brief (one verse, two minutes) track that ostensibly serves to represent Tupac as the voice of African-American youth. Unfortunately, like much of Pac’s early work, the noble message is lost in his choppy flow and nearly nonsensical lyrics. If you listen closely, you’ll hear an interpolation of a young Ice Cube.
Trapped – The first sign of better things to come. This is an excellent cut that could’ve served as an anthem for the swell of cultural pride that was established at the time. Pac was still finding his way as a lyricist, but the hopelessness of ghetto living would be a theme he’d revisit in later years.
All we know is violence, do tha job in silence
Walk tha city streets like a rat pack of tyrants
Too many brothers daily heading for tha big pen
N****s comin’ out worse off than when they went in
Soulja’s Story – A shaky effort that opens with an annoying “voice-distorted” Tupac verse. This was supposed to represent a different “personality” of Pac, but it never really clicked. A slow, repetitive beat underscores a jailbreak tale. Nothin’ of real note here, save for the anti-police theme that Ice Cube was doin’ better at the same time.
The fast life ain’t everything they told ya
Never get much older, following the tracks of a soulja
I Don’t Give A F*ck – The passion is there, but the results aren’t. This joint continues the theme of Trapped but with more bravado than vulnerability. There are a handful of nice lines, but it eventually devolves into a profane car wreck.
Mama told me they’re be days like this
But I’m pissed cause it stays like this
And now they trying to send me off to Kuwait
Gimme a break
Violent – Pac further fans the flames of his one-man war against the police. This is a decent track that runs about two minutes too long, but still works on a storytellin’ level. Listen for a rather infamous line from Chuck D in between the scratches on the chorus.
I’m Never Ignorant, Getting Goals Accomplished
Words of Wisdom – An intriguing and underrated track that is equal parts spoken-word commentary and uplifting theme. There is also an anti-establishment tint that bleeds into every word, but only slightly distracts from the message.
They shine upon the strength of an nation
Conquer the enemy on with education
Protect thy self, reach with what you wanna do
Know thy self, teach what we been through
Something Wicked – On one of the weaker tracks, Pac speeds up the pace of his flow, but ends up trippin’ over his own tongue a few times. The Railroad-produced beat does most of the work here, while Pac can only try (and fail) to keep up. Fortunately, it’s a short track.
Crooked Ass N**** – A bizarre and over-the-top effort where Pac sounds like one of the many generic acts that was biting from NWA at the time. Oddly enough, this one twists in a lyrical sample or two from Ice Cube and Eazy-E. Violently empty and bordering on lampoon.
Two very bloody bodies on the streets
A nosy ass cop and a n!gga that robbed from me
If My Homie Calls – Seemingly the blueprint for his much better I Ain’t Mad At’Cha song from a few years later. Tupac’s lyrical dexterity is still very simplistic and unpolished, which hinders the more positive subject matter of loyalty.
Who am I to judge another brother, only on his cover
I’d be no different than the other
Brenda’s Got A Baby – Oddly enough, the opinions of hardcore Tupac fans vary wildly on this one. Some hate the beat and find it too preachy, while other think it was (and still is) timely, relevant and laid the foundation for is more heartfelt joints. Put me in the second group, as it’s easily the best track on this album and one of his top 10 ever.
I hear Brenda’s got a baby
Well, Brenda’s barely got a brain
A damn shame
Tha girl can hardly spell her name
(That’s not our problem, that’s up to Brenda’s family)
Well let me show ya how it affects the whole community
Tha Lunatic – A combination of a whistle/drum loop and three verses of belligerent posturing about”¦well, really about nothing. The album is getting very thin at this point as Pac has pretty much beat the gangsta theme to a thousand deaths.
Make pay, next is the wet sex
Hexed with the vex now they wreck with the complex
Rebel of the Underground – A pretty good cut here, even though the us-against-them subject matter wasn’t quite played out in rap yet. The production mixes in a few horns on the bridge, which wasn’t all that sophisticated, but still a nice touch.
On the streets or on TV
It just don’t pay to be, a truth tellin MC
They won’t be happy till I’m banned
The most dangerous weapon: an educated black man
Part Time Mutha – This one works in every way lyrically, as the socially conscious Tupac wraps things up. It’s an open letter to mothers who don’t take their responsibilities seriously with sad, often tragic, results. The overt Stevie Wonder sample might turn a few people off, but at least it’s used on one of the better tracks.
That would be cool, if she was your lover
But f*ck that, Cindi was my dope fiend mother
Welfare checks never stepped through the front door
Cuz moms would run to the dopeman once more
As mediocre as this album was, the fallout from some of the tracks was swift and harsh. NWA had already turned the eyes of law enforcement to their world of Fuck The Police just three years earlier, and the level of tolerance for this particular subject matter was razor-thin. Then, on April 11, 1992, a 19-year-old man named Ronald Ray Howard shot and killed a Texas State Trooper. Howard’s lawyer did not deny his client’s guilt, however he chose to blame 2Pacalypse Now, which he claimed was Howard’s motivation.
The Renaissance was, by this time, shaping up to be nothing more than a passing fad. Like many things that trace their roots and influence to the all-powerful demographic of youth, commercialism and corporate America snuffed out much of this enlightenment.
Anything that was left evolved into cynicism after the April 1992 Rodney King verdicts. Young and old African-Americans alike were increasingly frustrated, while the poverty, drugs and crime that ravaged many of our communities steadily overcame the celebrations over the gains of a few.
Blacks everywhere were losing their last strands of hope in the foundations that this country was built on. In the eyes of many, it was as if the Government had focused its considerable might against an entire race of people. Of course, this was an exaggeration. The United States Government, at the behest of the second most powerful man in the world, wasn’t going after an entire race”¦it almost seemed that they were only going after one man.
Next, in Part II of Countdown to Resurrection, we’ll look in depth at Vice President Dan Quayle versus Tupac Shakur and the influence of the feud on Pac’s sophomore album, Strictly For My N.I.G.G.A.Z.
