News of Blue Scholars' recent signing to NYC's fabled Rawkus Records was met with smiles all around, both warm and wry. Whether you're a cynical naysayer or loving supporter of the Seattle hiphop duo, the deal is fitting, a fact that ultimately doesn't work in the group's favor.
Rawkus's legendary, late-'90s winning streak (Mos Def, Talib Kweli, Pharoahe Monch, Company Flow) is the Scholars' primary artistic influence. Responsible for hiphop's golden-era revival, the label symbolized a movement that spawned legions of "conscious" and "progressive" artists equally bent on celebrating hiphop history and pushing exciting artistic and ideological agendas. Many acts who moved on from the label, like Kweli and Lyricist Loungers Punch and Wordsworth, still give it props as an incubator of the progressive hiphop movement. Like a proud parent, Rawkus validates Blue Scholars' commitment to the cause. The deal makes perfect sense.
Rawkus Records is also a glorious but isolated moment in hiphop's evolution, a moment that is now and forever gone. All of its original members have grown up, moved on, died, or fallen off the rap radar, leaving the fledgling "new" Rawkus but one piece of capital: name recognition. That they still hoist that name high is proof that Rawkus is stuck in the '90s, the same accusation haters have leveled against Blue Scholars, whose reverent positivism resonates less with today's Clipse-loving youth than the college-educated remains of the Rawkus bandwagon. Of course Rawkus and the Scholars have teamed up: They're identically toothless. The deal makes perfect sense.
Amid the confusion, what's certain is that Seattle, overwhelmingly white and educated, has an inferiority complex over its hiphop scene. We've long had a tendency to intellectualize the music, assuming "real" hiphop lives in NYC or elsewhere. That the Emerald City celebrates the Scholars and the Mass Line record label while largely ignoring its own vibrant gangsta scene, for instance, shows a prejudice toward the East Coast, true-school sound. Innovation and originalityâdeveloping a real "Seattle sound"âare therefore a lower priority to local artists. From KRS-One's endorsement of Common Market to the Scholars' Rawkus signing, Seattle's dependence on outside validation has hurt its homegrown scene.
The Rawkus move further illustrates how disconnected Blue Scholars have become from the rest of Seattle's tight-knit rap community. A recent managerial switch led to widespread ambivalence about the Scholars' relationship to the city's hiphop pulse, an unwise relationship to sour. On the outside chance that the Rawkus deal blows up in their face, the Scholars will need to fall back on a supportive core audience.
Hiphop is a hands-on thing, a culture that involves handshakes, hugging, and open, immediate dialogue. It values clear vision and brazen confidence. But the Scholars seem confused, unsure whether to play up their role as new members of the Rawkus family or dismiss the signing as a simple distribution fix. As the self-described "revolutionary" leaders of Mass Line's progressive school of thought, Blue Scholars must be explicit about where their allegiances lie, but their dedication to Seattle has grown as vague as their socialist-ish politics. All this uncertainty suggests a concept more than a rap group. It's frustrating: The Scholars stand a self-imposed, uneasy arm's length from Seattle's rap core, hovering like ghosts.
