Gangsta Rap

by Benjamin Zephaniah

  His mother jumped up and stood between them. ‘Stop it, both of you.’

  ‘You have a lot to learn,’ his father said, pointing his finger at Ray.

  ‘Well, I’m not going to learn it in this house.’

  Ray left their room and went back to his own. His instinct was to leave the house, but this time he sat on his bed and thought until he fell asleep fully clothed. When he woke up he immediately continued his line of thought from when he had fallen asleep. Fifteen minutes later he rang Marga Man.

  ‘Marga Man, I need your help.’

  ‘I’m here to help you,’ said Marga Man’s mellow voice back.

  ‘I need to find a place to live. I can’t stay in this house any longer.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure man.’

  ‘What’s going down?’

  ‘My dad man, I can’t take it any more. Please don’t give me a lecture, I know what’s what. Can you help me?

  ‘When do you want to do de move?’

  ‘Soon, anytime, tonight.’

  ‘Tonight may be difficult, but I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Thanks, man.’

  Once Ray had made the decision to leave, it was as if he had made peace with his father. He didn’t see him that often anyway, but he wasn’t trying to avoid him any more. Ray spent the day being cool about it all, and he was polite and civil to his father.

  After a long phone conversation with Yinka later in the afternoon, they met in the early evening at a Thai restaurant. Ray tried to apologise for what had happened in the early hours of that morning, but Yinka wasn’t having it, as she saw no need for him to apologise and no need for him to be embarrassed. Once again he did more listening than speaking. Even when Yinka started by saying, ‘I don’t know much about this but . . .’, she would go on to enlighten Ray. He took no risks with Yinka that night, but he didn’t need to – as he dropped her off in a taxi she promised to call him the next day. And she did – in fact for the next few days she called him every day, and their phone conversations got longer and longer.

  It took Marga Man a couple of days to find a flat for Ray. It had two furnished rooms and was on the first floor of a small house near Stratford bus station where Ray had slept on a bench. It quickly became a place where the boys spent much of their time when not in the studio. Yinka also began visiting him there, and Ray gradually learnt how to maintain a home. And it didn’t take long for Marga Man, Tyrone and Prem to see that for the first time Ray was taking a relationship very seriously and that Yinka was having a profound effect on him. Before really getting down to writing the lyrics for the new album, Ray insisted on having ‘reasoning sessions’ in his flat where they would talk about a chosen topic. Ray thought that the band should have an ideology, just like a revolutionary political party. This impressed Marga Man, and soon Tyrone and Prem got the idea.

  The lyrics they began to write began to take on a new character. The first rap ready for the recording was called ‘Ever Ready Reasoning’, a slow jam that reflected the journey the band had taken. Its message was that through reasoning band members would be in tune with each other and have a greater sense of purpose. The second rap was called ‘Mental Inquilab’, ‘Inquilab’ being the Urdu word for revolution. Then a third rap was written called ‘Made in Poorland’, a lyric exploration of how many of the things we take for granted are made in the poorest countries of the world by people who receive very little pay. Yinka made sure she didn’t hang around the band too much and she was also careful not to tell Ray what he should be writing. For his part, Ray did not go to Yinka for answers, but he did go to her for questions. At no time did the others feel that Yinka was getting in the way.

  During a week of intensive recording, a reasoning session was called in the studio. They were all present: Tyrone, Prem, Ray, Marga Man and Bunny. But unusually, this session was called by Tyrone. For a while all he talked about was how well he thought the new recordings were going. Then he spoke about how much he loved working with the band and for a while it began to sound as if he was talking about the past.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Ray, fearing he was about to announce his resignation or a solo career.

  Tyrone was thoughtful and calm. ‘It’s like this, I’m gonna be a big daddy rapper, ’cause I got a small baby rapper on the way.’

  There was a pause as everyone wondered if he was serious.

  ‘Don’t play,’ said Prem.

  ‘He’s not serious,’ said Ray. ‘This must be some new rap he’s got going on.’

  ‘I’m serious,’ Tyrone said.

  ‘You want to be a father now?’ asked Marga Man.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Tyrone.

  ‘Why?’ asked Marga Man. ‘It’s an expensive business, an yu can’t just give up when tings get rough.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said Prem. ‘You have to plan ahead and start taking life seriously.’

  ‘I take life seriously already, and anyway, it’s not a case of wanting to be a father, I’m going to be a father,’ Tyrone said.

  ‘But Tyrone, yu is just a youth, tek my advice, let de good times roll, be a youth for as long as yu can,’ said Marga Man.

  ‘Listen,’ Tyrone said firmly, ‘I know what I’m doing, I’ve thought about everything, I’m not running away, there’s no abortion thing happening here. I’m the daddy, and that’s that.’

  ‘You can’t be clearer than that,’ said Marga Man.

  Bunny tried to contribute to the conversation. ‘The thing is, nowadays things are getting confused. Children are having children. The statistics show that teenage pregnancies are on the increase.’

  ‘Bunny man, yu read too many newspapers,’ said Marga Man.

  ‘And anyway,’ added Tyrone, ‘I’m not a statistic.’

  There was a short silence whilst everyone took it all in, then Marga Man asked, ‘Are yu sure yu gonna be all right?

  ‘I’m all right,’ said Tyrone, ‘No, I’m more than all right, I’m happy.’

  They all realised that Tyrone had given it some thought and so they then began to congratulate him, until something occurred to Ray.

  ‘Hey man, you didn’t do it on your own, so who’s mummy?’

  ‘Don’t you worry who mummy is, mummy’s cool,’ said Tyrone smiling. ‘That’s all you need to know, mummy’s cool.’

  Chapter 18

  Freedom or Death?

  The record company employed the world-famous promoter Tony Oldsmith to promote the tour. Marga Man said he was the best money could buy, an expert. The tour was going to cover most of the major cities in Scotland, Wales and England. Bunny was now working freelance as the band were having to pay him for his studio time, but record sales were going so well that they could afford to. Within a couple of months they had made thousands of pounds each. They now had individual bank accounts and money was going directly to them from sponsorship. Their faces began appearing on billboards advertising cool clothes, wrapping paper and a well-known soft drink.

  All was all going well, and weeks before the tour was to start the second album was ready. The advance payment for the album was in the bank, but the plan was to wait until the tour was over before releasing it. The tour was the next big thing and this tour was still riding on the success of the first album. Things couldn’t have been better.

  * * *

  A press conference was called in the newly re-decorated and newly re-stocked Flip Discs music shop. Marga Man was keen to show off his new-look shop to the press and get some free publicity at the same time. But on the day it became clear that it was going to be difficult. The press conference did publicise the shop and let people know that Marga Man was back in business, but the shop could barely contain the crowd. Conferences of this kind were usually only of interest to the music press, but this one attracted many of the daily newspapers, a few television cameras and a sizeable number of reporters from foreign publications.

  It was a press conference with a difference: the pre
ss conference became the news. The band took questions standing behind the counter with Skelly on one side and Marga Man on the other. Yinka stood watching quietly to the side, and Sam, who had made a surprise visit, stood on the opposite side. In front of the counter stood the two bodyguards, and two extra guards stood at the entrance of the shop.

  The questions came fast from all directions.

  ‘Has winning those MOBO awards made any difference to you?’

  ‘It may make a difference to the way you see us,’ said Ray. ‘But it doesn’t make any difference to us. I haven’t written a MOBO rap yet.’

  ‘Don’t you think that hip-hop is an American art form that will never really take off here – aren’t you just playing around?’

  ‘We’re not playing,’ said Prem. ‘We’re serious. Right now hip-hop lives in Africa, Canada, France, all over the world. Even my old headmaster knows that. Hip-hop is not limited by political borders.’

  ‘Is rap important?’

  ‘No,’ said Ray adamantly. ‘When you get right down to it rap is just the thing we do. You can rap the news, you can rap on rock tunes, you can rap on R’n’B, you can rap on folk music. Rap is just a way of speaking. Rap isn’t important, hip-hop is important. Hip-hop is a philosophy, hip-hop is about the way we live, it’s about the way we see life. We are outsiders and we survive by creating new families for ourselves.’

  ‘What do you think of the Western Alliance?’

  There was a tangible pause and then Prem spoke. ‘We don’t have a problem with the Western Alliance, and we hope that they don’t have a problem with us. The press are just blowing this thing up because they want a story. They represent the west and we represent the east, and that’s that.’

  ‘But they accuse you of being behind the killing of one of their fans. They say they keep getting threatening calls from you and your crew and that last night one of you phoned one of their girls saying that, and I quote, “If you come to the eastside, baby, you can get some real man, and you need real men to do it for you. Western boys can’t do you good, come here so we can put a smile on your face, and other parts of your anatomy.” Unquote.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ Ray said, waving the idea away. ‘You think that we have time for that? We haven’t got time to waste on that stuff, we’re too busy being creative, we’re on a mission.’

  ‘So you’ve sent no messages at all to the Western Alliance.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Ray. ‘We do have a message for them, but it the same message we have for everybody. Our motto is, Let wordy great minds think alike, sweet Hip-Hop be our guiding light. We want unity in the hip-hop community, we wanna bring people together, for ever. That’s our message.’

  ‘This is all good talk, but let’s be honest, wouldn’t it be fair to say that hip-hop is about violence?’

  Tyrone answered this time. He spoke slowly, and the seriousness in his tone was notable. ‘Hip-hop is not about violence. The worst violence being done on this planet right now is being done by politicians, but when you interview politicians you don’t say that politics is about violence. Soldiers actually carry guns and are trained to be violent but you call them heroes and you make statues of them.’

  ‘But it could be said that they are defending the country.’

  ‘Well,’ said Ray, ‘you say the soldier is defending the country even though he may be fighting thousands of miles away. But look at us, we are here, walking the streets where we live and when we defend ourselves we’re called violent. Watch us as we circulate from day to day. When we meet and greet we say peace, because hip-hop is about peace, we keep saying peace because we want to live in peace. But hip-hop is also about defending the self, it’s not about invading other people’s land, it is not about being a hero, it is simply about self-preservation, the right to defend one’s self, you know what I’m saying?’

  ‘You say it’s not about creating heroes and you say it’s not about violence, but Tupac Shakur is a hero of yours, and didn’t he both live and die by the gun?’

  Ray’s response verged on anger. ‘If you think it’s as simple as that you can’t have any idea of the conditions my man Tupac lived in. Your ignorance must be caused by some bullshit that you’ve read in some newspaper. Or did you print it? Tupac had to survive in the ghetto, he had to be creative and constructive in a situation of pure negativity. He was about freedom. Just like Bob Marley was for freedom, so Tupac Shakur was for freedom.’

  A Japanese reporter with a film crew behind him put his hand up as he spoke. ‘But Tupac carried a gun and was convicted of rape. Bob Marley was never known to carry a gun, and although he had lots of children, no one seems to know how many, he was never accused of rape.’

  Ray shook his head. ‘You just don’t get it. Bob Marley lived under different circumstances to Tupac, but they both reacted according to their situation, and they both made mistakes. The important thing was that they both came from poor places, they both saw poverty, they both had raw deals, and they both realised that other people would suffer the same as them if they didn’t fight for freedom. In their own way both of them were saying freedom or death.’

  ‘Come on, Tupac was a thug. He said he stood for what he called thug life.’

  ‘Tupac wouldn’t take no bullshit,’ Ray replied, banging his fist on the counter. ‘Tupac defended himself, but it was freedom or death, and he got death.’

  ‘So is Tupac your hero then?’

  ‘What’s wrong with you lot, you just don’t get it, do you?’ Ray was trying to keep cool but everyone could see that he was being pushed to the edge. ‘Tupac said and did some great things, but he also made some mistakes. Look where I live. Here in the East End of London the way we live is very different to the way that Tupac lived, and no doubt the way we die will differ too.’

  ‘Do you think Tupac was a revolutionary?’

  Skelly quickly interrupted. ‘Now let’s remember why we are here. This is about Positive Negatives and not about Tupac Shakur. I would like to suggest that your questions be relevant to the talent in front of you.’

  The band fended off more questions about violence and the predicted death of hip-hop before Skelly moved to the centre. ‘I’m afraid that’s all we have time for, but before we go I’d like to make an announcement and make an offer. First the announcement. The first gig of the tour will be at the Pavilion in Brighton. This will be a benefit gig with all the proceeds going to The Nation Foundation, the organisation that works with young people who have been excluded from mainstream education. And the offer. In order to show that Positive Negatives are about working together we would like to offer the Western Alliance the support spot on this tour.’

  The boys were taken by surprise; they looked at each other, trying not to make it obvious that they knew nothing about this.

  A reporter raised his hand. ‘Are you really saying that you would be willing to share the bill with the Western Alliance?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Skelly. ‘Well, not exactly – they would be sharing the bill with us, we would still be the headliners.’

  ‘One last question,’ another reporter shouted. ‘Pro Justice, I understand that you’re going to be a father. How does it feel, and do you have any plans for the baby?’

  Tyrone cracked a baby smile. ‘Well, it feels good. It’s my first time and I have no idea how it happened – all we did was hold hands,’ he said, tongue in cheek. ‘But it feels good. And as for future plans, I don’t know, first things first, we’ll get the newborn a record deal and take it from there.’

  After the press conference the boys and Marga Man confronted Skelly.

  ‘What’s this about the Western Alliance and us?’ said Prem.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Skelly replied. ‘It’s just something they came up with in the office. The Western Alliance ain’t going to say yes, but it’s the thought that counts, and it’s great publicity. People can’t say you hate them if you invite them on tour with you.’

  Marga Man pointed
a threatening finger at Skelly. ‘Listen, man, don’t pull one like dat again. I see where you’re coming from but de next time yu have any of dem bright ideas mek sure yu run dem pass me first.’

  Just over an hour after the end of the press conference Marga Man was answering phone calls in the shop about the tour. But there was another from the unknown. ‘The Messenger here. Can’t you see that the Western Alliance will never tour with you nothings. You have declared war. The fight will be to the very end.’

  * * *

  The press conference had the desired effect. No British hip-hop band had ever had a tour covered by the press in such a big way. Almost every venue was sold out. Tyrone’s parents and Ray’s mother began to welcome their boys’ fame; Ray’s father said very little, and Ray felt he was quietly jealous. But even Prem’s mother was beginning to be happy with the positive coverage of her son’s activities.

  The night before the start of the tour, Marga Man arranged for the band to have a meal at the Nigerian restaurant on Green Street where Yinka and Ray had first met. One half of the restaurant was given over to the band to accommodate their friends. Marga Man brought his wife Pauline with him. The boys had heard a lot about her, but this was the first time they met her. Like Marga Man she spoke with a heavy Jamaican accent, and like Marga Man she was large, but unlike Marga Man she seemed rather serious, although quiet and polite. Along with Bunny they were the first to arrive. They were quickly followed by Ray and Tyrone, and ten minutes later Prem arrived with Anita Das holding on to his arm. As he entered the restaurant Ray and Tyrone cheered and clapped. Anita was a pupil at their school, a pretty, dark-skinned Hindu girl. Prem had been chasing her for years. Tyrone and Ray were just glad to see them together at last. Next to arrive was Yinka with her friend Mallam, and the last person to turn up was Sam from Positivity. Prem and Ray were overjoyed to see her, she wasn’t expected, but Tyrone was very cool about it all. Ray introduced her to Yinka, Mallam, Anita and Pauline and they began to order their meals. As they waited for the food the conversation turned to the press conference.