TOUCHSTONE ALBUMS: “Power” (Ice-T)
After my post about the debate he had about the greatest Public Enemy album, Internet Celebrity and dope blogger Dallas Penn suggested to me that I write about what “touchstone” albums were influential in shaping me as a hip-hop head. Why did I enjoy them? What did they mean to me? Not one to turn down good advice, I have decided to make this a regular series. The first entry: Power by Ice-T.
By 1988, I was a full fledged hip-hop junkie. I had discovered pioneers Run DMC, Public Enemy, BDP, Big Daddy Kane and I loved it all. Every chance I got, I went into the record store and picked up whatever new tape that I could get my hands on.
You need to understand where I was at. In the late 80’s, while my suburban friends just outside of Toronto were listening to George Michael and INXS, I had stumbled upon hip-hop via some friends of mine. Where I’m from, we have it easy: very little crime, general racial harmony and the only drugs I ever encountered were of the off-the-shelf variety in a pharmacy. About as far away from the urban experience as you can get.
But neverless, I loved the agressive, percussion-driven style of rap. Right from jump, I loved hearing intricate rhymes over hard beats, guitars, scratches and interesting sample loops. Still do. But what I always found the most fascinating were the tales spun about life on the streets of far away cities like New York or Philadelphia. I had never been there, but they seemed pretty real. But I was about to take a trip to the west coast, thanks to a former gangster-turned-MC named Ice-T.
I had scrounged up enough tip money from the busboy job I had at some restaurant and I hopped over to a mall in Toronto where I knew I could grab some of the latest rap music. Back then, that was the only way I could hear hip-hop. There were no radio stations or videos playing rap, except for specific shows for a 1/2 hour. There were no mixtapes and the Internet was years away. Coming from where I was, I may as well been living in Russia – we probably had equal access to new hip-hop.
On that day, one of the new releases was an album entitled Power. Look at the cover – you’d understand why it got my attention. Back then, I was down to give anything a spin, so I put my money down, bought the tape and threw it into the Walkman. Yeah, Walkman.
Right from the intro, I knew this was no Disneyland ride. Dude shot a guy over the tape? And that was just the beginning. Power was a direct pipeline to a world I knew nothing about: Crips, Bloods, street shootouts, drug dealers, pimps, shotguns, grenades and straight pimpin’. All seen through a hard rock rapper with a smooth ass voice. From start to finish, it was something out of a movie. Track after track spoke vividly about the daily life in south central L.A. And here I was thinking it was palm trees and bikinis. Oops.
And I can’t front – the “cool factor” was in full effect. Joints like “Drama” and “High Rollers” painted a picture of dodging crooked cops, rival crews and even your own homeboys for a shot at big bank, fast cars and even faster girls. It was a player’s life on these streets and I loved every minute of it. While these tales rarely had a happy ending, the journey sounded like it was right out of a gangster flick.
But it wasn’t all guns and violence. Ice rhymed as raw about gang life as he did about his love of dimepieces. “Girls L.G.B.N.A.F” was as explicit as it got at the time – but Ice-T coudn’t give a hot damn. He just wanted to get busy. Don’t we all?
At the same time, Ice-T didn’t forget he was an MC. “Grand Larceny” was a perfect metaphor for the greatest possible theft a rapper could make: stealing a show. On the posse cut “Syndicate”, Ice-T put his street rhymes on hold to pimp slap LL Cool J on wax. This dude spoke the truth to whoever wanted it: radio stations (“Radio Suckers”), government (“Power”), police (“Drama”), enemy crews (“Personal”).
Ice-T wasn’t just a rapper; he was also a player. He talked about the streets not as a “reporter” but as an active participant: someone who knew way too much about the subject matter not to have been knee deep in it himself. “The Ice” weaved cinematic storylines that were full of characters, plot lines, twists and action. He wasn’t an MC bragging about his chain, he was scheming on a boat. While you could call him a thug, he was more like an older hustler trying to school the young cats coming up on the game. Learn from what he went through and what made him who he is, scars and all.
I had never heard such “real talk” on a tape before. This guy just didn’t give a sh*t. Sign me up. Keep your Sex Pistols. This was my rebellion through music. I felt bad just listening to it. Power opened my mind to west coast rap, which would become my second home in terms of music I checked for on the regular. While there were others released previously, this was the first “gangsta rap” album I had ever bought. But it certainly would not be my last.
Power was the first album that took me out of the traditional “rapper” paradigm where MCs were bragging and boasting about their skills. This was a full accounting of daily life in the forgotten urban pockets of America; in this case, the gang capital of the nation. It was a powerful experience that stayed with me to this day and just increased my hunger for hip-hop. It was on now.
