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Over the decades, hip-hop has had several dozen individuals who’ve thrown the chips on their shoulders down our collective throats, filling the context of this music with their insecurities, expectations and belief systems.

None has been more ubiquitous in her affect on the operating systems and regulations of this music than Oprah Winfrey. Seriously. Oprah’s spent nearly as much time as hip-hop trying to identify exactly what makes her tick, discovering common ground between her own holes and that of the global community, and celebrating the similarity.

Not because the individual abilities and talents are particularly noteworthy, rather, the fact that we exist is laudatory, in Oprah’s mind. She’s the ultimate affirmer, making the abstract spirit concrete, because without a supposed ghost floating around our brains protecting and validating our lives, then, really, what is the point? It’s pre-emptive therapy, you are great, because if you weren’t, then that would suck. Hip-hop has adopted this philosophy in spades, deep, shallow, heavy spades.

Oprah helps middle-aged housewives find their spirit, even if, at the root of it, these women actually have about as much spirit as Gee Dubya has a sense of remorse. Accordingly, hip-hop demands that the active participants demand their props, however undeserved they may or may not be.

There’s been a gradual shift from the traditional method of gathering accolades in a hip-hop context, i.e. winning battles, releasing dope records, putting on an insane live show, etc. Nowadays, the statement of props supercedes the actions taken to receive them. It’d be like someone who’s always had a sneaking belief that cigarettes are in fact bad for the lungs suddenly proclaiming himself the Surgeon General of the United States of America.

This happens more often than not nowadays, every other rapper spends at least four bars of his designated 16 bar verses explaining why he’s not only the nicest currently doing it, and that his only potential competition passed away in L.A. near a decade ago.

The problem is, unlike Oprah’ spirit search techniques, hip-hop quality controls are far more obvious and stringent. I could say I found my spirit, when really, all I found was that Canadian quarter she left me to call her with a week later. No-one would know, it’s all abstract.

Whereas in hip-hop, if you’re not the greatest rapper, or anywhere near it, it’s painfully obvious. Yet, the claims still get made so much that they cloud the cultural context to the point they become self-fulfilling prophecies.

Cases in point: LL Cool J, Bow Wow (for God’s sake), Snoop, Camron, the list goes on, the hyperbole lacks hubris, these people BELIEVE what they say, and expect us to cosign their baseless claims.

I’m sure Oprah doesn’t know what she did, and I can’t blame her, because her intentions were pure, but, sweet fancy Mariah, has hip-hop gotten all muddied to hell from all this self-affirmation bull.[[In-content Ad]]

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