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American Music Series
Who Got the Camera?: A History of Rap and Reality
Reality first appeared in the late 1980s—in the sense not of real life but rather of the TV entertainment genre inaugurated by shows such as Cops and America’s Most Wanted; the daytime gabfests of Geraldo, Oprah, and Donahue; and the tabloid news of A Current Affair. In a bracing work of cultural criticism, Eric Harvey argues that reality TV emerged in dialog with another kind of entertainment that served as its foil while borrowing its techniques: gangsta rap. Or, as legendary performers Ice Cube and Ice-T called it, “reality rap.”
Reality rap and reality TV were components of a cultural revolution that redefined popular entertainment as a truth-telling medium. Reality entertainment borrowed journalistic tropes but was undiluted by the caveats and context that journalism demanded. While N.W.A.’s “Fuck tha Police” countered Cops’ vision of Black lives in America, the reality rappers who emerged in that group’s wake, such as Snoop Doggy Dogg and Tupac Shakur, embraced reality’s visceral tabloid sensationalism, using the media's obsession with Black criminality to collapse the distinction between image and truth. Reality TV and reality rap nurtured the world we live in now, where politics and basic facts don’t feel real until they have been translated into mass-mediated entertainment.
Reality rap and reality TV were components of a cultural revolution that redefined popular entertainment as a truth-telling medium. Reality entertainment borrowed journalistic tropes but was undiluted by the caveats and context that journalism demanded. While N.W.A.’s “Fuck tha Police” countered Cops’ vision of Black lives in America, the reality rappers who emerged in that group’s wake, such as Snoop Doggy Dogg and Tupac Shakur, embraced reality’s visceral tabloid sensationalism, using the media's obsession with Black criminality to collapse the distinction between image and truth. Reality TV and reality rap nurtured the world we live in now, where politics and basic facts don’t feel real until they have been translated into mass-mediated entertainment.
408 pages, Hardcover
Published October 5, 2021
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Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews
October 14, 2021
Eric Harvey opens this book by quoting Ice Cube, who told bell hooks in 1993 that "I do records for Black kids, and white kids are basically eavesdropping on my records. But [...] white kids need to hear what we got to say about them and their forefathers and uncles and everybody that's done us wrong. And the only way they're goin' to hear it uncut and uncensored is rap music."
The author goes on to observe that in Cube's heyday, rap became a kind of counterprogramming to the rise of reality TV. While we now often associate the term "reality TV" with staged game shows and dating shows, the early '90s saw the rise of shows like Cops and America's Most Wanted: programs for which the term "copaganda" was coined. Those shows invited white viewers to identify with the largely white police who were very typically seen patrolling heavily BIPOC communities, presenting themselves as the last line of defense against chaos and disorder.
I reviewed Who Got the Camera? for The Current.
The author goes on to observe that in Cube's heyday, rap became a kind of counterprogramming to the rise of reality TV. While we now often associate the term "reality TV" with staged game shows and dating shows, the early '90s saw the rise of shows like Cops and America's Most Wanted: programs for which the term "copaganda" was coined. Those shows invited white viewers to identify with the largely white police who were very typically seen patrolling heavily BIPOC communities, presenting themselves as the last line of defense against chaos and disorder.
I reviewed Who Got the Camera? for The Current.
September 22, 2022
The Rodney King video was the quintessential media artifact of the first wave of reality entertainment, a pivot point in the representation of American law and order, and a reality rap validation. Those vicious eighty-one seconds verified the street reportage of N.W.A. and Ice Cube and cast the growing faction of reality rappers not merely as angry young Black men but as street prophets. The tape had the gritty, voyeuristic appeal of a bombshell A Current Affair story and was infinitely more real than any of Cops' pro-police vérité entertainment; if the same footage had leaked from a Cops edit bay labeled "DESTROY," it would have been just as believable as it was coming from a white plumber's camcorder.
February 27, 2024
I vacillated between a 3 ("good" for me) and 4 ("great") on this one. It's very readable and as a bonus has had me revisiting all of the classic early '90s hip hop milestone albums. It's an interesting premise, tracing the intersection of reality television and "reality rap" (as the first wave of what cultural critics alternatively dubbed "gangsta rap"). Some particularly interesting observations and a solid pop-culture history. I think (and this may be a personal bias) I may have been most turned off by what comes across as the author's less than stellar assessment of 2pac. The recent oral history of Tupac Shakur book and particularly the "Dear Mama" docuseries both do a much better job of reassessing the complicated legacy of perhaps the greatest of all "reality rappers".
May 10, 2022
A dense history of reality (sometimes called gangsta) rap that weaves a theory that the salacious daytime talk shows and budding reality shows that grew in popularity at the same time both showed our hunger for what's "real" while punishing rap lyricists instead of addressing true problems. An interesting idea and a fresh take on the influence of NWA, Ice-T, Tupac and other rappers in the 1990s.
November 3, 2021
Immersive. Comprehensive. Scalding.
In this impressive work of media criticism, Eric Harvey discusses, compares, and contrasts the concurrent rise of reality/tabloid television and reality/gangsta rap. Leaving no stone unturned in the terms of depth and breadth of research, the book explores the vast intersections of the lives and careers of the prominent rappers and television personalities who dominated American popular culture in the '90s.
The book's central thesis uses the rise of shows like Cops and America's Most Wanted showcasing a very police-centric view of the world as a backdrop for the powerful political and street-level rap that came alive in the late '80s and '90s. The history of artists like Public Enemy, N.W.A., Snoop Dogg, Tupac Shakur, and more are analyzed through the lens of how their music and lyrics were lambasted and censored by various moral entrepreneurs (a term the book uses copiously and derisively) like Tipper Gore, Nick Navarro, and others.
By focusing on the growth of manufactured realness, faux authenticity, and consumer-driven sensationalism, the book provides a strong case that the events and cultural malaise of the 2010s (and beyond) are a reflection and continuation of what the '90s began. I'm especially enamored with Harvey's "Conclusion" chapter in that it displays how we're reliving the '90s in terms of the culture wars, while also discussing how some of the tenets of realism are being used to re-imagine and re-interpret popular discourse.
Harvey regularly indicts the media for speaking from a cop-first perspective, as he engages in deep analysis of censorship, First Amendment rights, lyrical interpretation, and more. He also holds no love for the copious consumerism inherent in late capitalism that spurred the drive for increased "reality" access to people's lives. While regularly pointing out instances where artists may have become too "real" in their art, he also upholds the belief that rappers should be able to write lyrics that reflect their world without people assuming that their lyrics are actually true. Or as Ice-T declared in his 2011 autobiography, "If you believe that I'm a cop killer, you believe David Bowie is an astronaut."
This is a profound work of cultural criticism that is historical, reflective, and descriptive.
In this impressive work of media criticism, Eric Harvey discusses, compares, and contrasts the concurrent rise of reality/tabloid television and reality/gangsta rap. Leaving no stone unturned in the terms of depth and breadth of research, the book explores the vast intersections of the lives and careers of the prominent rappers and television personalities who dominated American popular culture in the '90s.
The book's central thesis uses the rise of shows like Cops and America's Most Wanted showcasing a very police-centric view of the world as a backdrop for the powerful political and street-level rap that came alive in the late '80s and '90s. The history of artists like Public Enemy, N.W.A., Snoop Dogg, Tupac Shakur, and more are analyzed through the lens of how their music and lyrics were lambasted and censored by various moral entrepreneurs (a term the book uses copiously and derisively) like Tipper Gore, Nick Navarro, and others.
By focusing on the growth of manufactured realness, faux authenticity, and consumer-driven sensationalism, the book provides a strong case that the events and cultural malaise of the 2010s (and beyond) are a reflection and continuation of what the '90s began. I'm especially enamored with Harvey's "Conclusion" chapter in that it displays how we're reliving the '90s in terms of the culture wars, while also discussing how some of the tenets of realism are being used to re-imagine and re-interpret popular discourse.
Harvey regularly indicts the media for speaking from a cop-first perspective, as he engages in deep analysis of censorship, First Amendment rights, lyrical interpretation, and more. He also holds no love for the copious consumerism inherent in late capitalism that spurred the drive for increased "reality" access to people's lives. While regularly pointing out instances where artists may have become too "real" in their art, he also upholds the belief that rappers should be able to write lyrics that reflect their world without people assuming that their lyrics are actually true. Or as Ice-T declared in his 2011 autobiography, "If you believe that I'm a cop killer, you believe David Bowie is an astronaut."
This is a profound work of cultural criticism that is historical, reflective, and descriptive.
Displaying 1 - 6 of 6 reviews