February 8, 2004

By THOR CHRISTENSEN / The Dallas Morning News

Like most rap artists, Ahmir "?uestlove" Thompson thinks the Grammy Awards have never been hip to hip-hop.

"There's a lack of respect on the part of the academy – it's barely reached a level of tokenism," says the Roots drummer, who won an award in 2000 for best rap group performance. "I use my Grammy as a paperweight for the magazines on top of my toilet."

But this year, with an unprecedented number of rap acts vying for major trophies, the Grammys may finally be moving out of the bathroom and onto the mantelpiece in hip-hop circles. Sunday night, nine rap or R&B nominees are competing in the "big four" categories – best album, song, record and new artist – and OutKast's Speakerboxxx/The Love Below is the front-runner in the album race.

"It's an important milestone," says Tom O'Neil, author of The Grammys. "It's an art form that's been begging for approval from the establishment, and it's finally received it."

While OutKast and Missy Elliott compete for best album, Eminem could take home the song and record awards for "Lose Yourself." Two rap-R&B fusions are also in the running for best record: "Crazy in Love," Beyoncé Knowles' duet with Jay-Z, and "Where Is the Love?" by the Black Eyed Peas and Justin Timberlake. Meanwhile, the new-artist contest features bullet-scarred rapper 50 Cent and Sean Paul, whose singsong "toasting" reflects rap's Jamaican roots.

In the 18 years since Run-D.M.C. became the first million-selling rap act, the genre has been marginalized by the Grammys. Only a handful of rap acts have been nominated in the four key categories, and only two have won: Arrested Development (new artist in '93) and singer-rapper Lauryn Hill (new artist and album in '99).

Why so late?

Figuring out why the Grammys are just now embracing rap is a riddle with as many twists as an Eminem song. According to Grammy chief Neil Portnow, it's because rap didn't really become a cultural phenomenon until recently.

"You can't miss it now – hip-hop has totally infiltrated the fabric of society," says Mr. Portnow, the president of the Grammy-governing Recording Academy.

But others say rap went mainstream years ago, and they think the Grammys are admitting it only now because they can no longer ignore it.

"It's rooted in America's racial politics," says Bakari Kitwana, author of three books on rap, including the upcoming Why White Kids Love Hip Hop.

"The Grammys are like any other institution that holds on to racial stereotypes, like the major leagues finally accepting black talent even though they knew it existed for years. Hip-hop has been crossing over ... at least since the mid-'90s. But the old-guard gatekeepers don't want to stick their neck on the line and say, 'It's legitimate.' "

And then there's the boob-tube effect – the idea that Grammy voters pay less attention to artistic merit or album sales than to what they hear playing on TV.

"In the last five years, rap and hip-hop is everywhere from Taco Bell to Sprite to Froot Loops to Nickelodeon to Sesame Street," says Dallas singer-rapper Erykah Badu. "It's not really about black or white. It's all based on money and purchasing power and what consumers age 15 to 30 are buying. ... Art means nothing in this industry."

Mr. O'Neil says, "When the money machine of Madison Avenue kicks in, the money machine of record-making pays all the more attention."

Whatever the reason for rap's belated embrace, it isn't the first time the Grammys have missed the boat. Begun in 1958, the awards all but ignored rock 'n' roll for a decade, shunning Bob Dylan and the Rolling Stones in favor of Henry Mancini and Robert Goulet. Rock categories didn't even exist until 1980.

The Grammys took their sweet time with rap, too. In 1989 – 10 years after Sugarhill Gang's "Rapper's Delight" rode the pop charts – the recording academy finally added a "best rap performance" category. But controversy ensued when rap artists found out the award wouldn't be televised, and four nominees boycotted, including the winners, DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince (Will Smith).

The next year, Tone Loc was the first rapper to get a major nomination – for best new artist, which he lost to Milli Vanilli. But rap was still largely ghettoized in genre-specific categories just as polka or bluegrass were. The prestigious best album Grammy – the equivalent of the best picture Oscar – didn't see a rap nominee until 1997, when the Fugees' The Score lost to Celine Dion's milquetoast Fall Into You.

"You'd see a couple of us infiltrate a few categories," says Ms. Badu. "But for the most part, if you were looking for a show to highlight our culture, you still had to turn to the Soul Train Awards."

The Grammys' nominating process was updated in 1996, paving the way for a few more rap nominees to appear in the general categories. OutKast's Stankonia, for example, was up for best album in 2002. But by then, much of the hip-hop community had written off the awards.

"I'm part of the problem – I will humbly admit that the year I won my Grammy, I didn't vote," says the Roots' Mr. Thompson, who has since joined the recording academy as a voting member. "People feel their votes don't count, and they're like '[expletive] the Grammys.' "

Mr. Portnow says the Grammy voting base has gotten "more inclusive in the last five years. We've made an outreach to the urban community, and that sets the stage for the kind of nominations you see this year."

That's "a terrible answer," says Mr. O'Neil, the Grammys author. "It's putting the blame on people from rap not joining and voting for themselves. It's the electorate that is supposed to be recognizing great music, whether it's classical or a ballad or gangsta rap."

Different treatment

But the reality is that many Grammy voters still weigh rap on a different scale than pop, rock or country. Eminem's best song nod for "Lose Yourself" marks the first time a rap number has ever been nominated in that category.

"You have a certain perception that rap is not a song," says Mr. Portnow. "It's something songwriters have been painfully slow to recognize. For the traditionalist, it's a radical concept."

That's par for the course, says Mr. O'Neil.

"You have to remember that the Grammys are the establishment, which means they're behind the times and resistant to change," he says.

"When the Grammys embrace rap as warmly and generously as they are this year, it's important. It may be just a pat on the back, but it's significant of a big philosophical shift in the music industry."

Still, not everyone is thrilled with the new philosophy. Just as punk rock mutated from politically charged street music to just another bland MTV flavor, rap may also be losing whatever edge it has left.

"The more and more mainstream it becomes, the more watered-down the music gets, and that's what we're starting to see," says Mr. Kitwana. "The Grammys' acceptance might actually spell the final demise of hip-hop."

E-mail tchristensen@dallasnews.com