Kat Says: "It's Still Dre Day"
Why the Super Bowl Half-Time show was a huge cultural milestone for America, African Americans, Los Angeles and street culture worldwide.
Are you enjoying Kat Scrawls? Do you think your friends would enjoy it? Please consider sharing this newsletter with a friend who likes good tunes and silly essays, and please always feel free to respond to this email and share your thoughts with me—or “like” it or leave a comment, or tweet it or something. Just spread the love and holler back, I’m always here for you ;)
One in three.
Those were the odds a black American man born in 2001 would end up incarcerated during his lifetime. Those statistics are built on the beaten back of decades of racism; and in Compton, Los Angeles—a neighborhood known around the world for its countless cultural contributions despite its urban-war torn history—it reflects a story that starts with a pair of Colt .45s in 1953 and leads, against all odds, to a triumphant Super Bowl stage.
Did y’all see it? When Tipper Gore ate a steaming plate of shit cooked 30 years in the Crockpot of culture? The show was billed as a five-star megashow (and in the end, we got two huge cameo guests), but it was really a celebration of Dr. Dre’s limitless foresight. Even more, it was a decided end to a war that would label troubled black youths a menace to our greater society.
Alright alright alright, it didn’t, like, end the issue, but it did serve as a tear-jerker of a win for some real underdogs, and I’m gonna spell out for you why it was way more than just Dr. Dre, Snoop Dogg, Eminem, Mary J. Blige, Kendrick Lamar and 50 Cent dropping hits—with Anderson. Paak on drums.
The city of Compton was created in 1889, and by the 1920s, it had become a haven for blue-collar white Americans migrating from the Midwest looking for a comfortable life with plenty of employment opportunities. It was even honored as an All-American City in 1952, but just one year later, the Supreme Court ruling of Barrows vs. Jackson rendered racially-motivated real estate malpractice unlawful, and Compton received its first black resident.
The reception was not welcomed, so much in fact that when Korean War veteran Alfred Jackson and his wife Luquella moved into their home, a mob of angry whites ran up on their moving van, and it was only when the couple’s friends appeared with pistols that the mob dispersed.
That’s the lineage wherein an album like Straight Outta Compton is born. It’s not some embarrassing meme, but a rebel yell for resilience to be respected, and it was given that respect Sunday night when 117 million people tuned it to see Dr. Dre and his brood of bonafide superstars open the televised performance with a highlight of the neighborhood’s gridded streets.
Andre Romelle Young was born in Compton on Feb. 18, 1965. Six months later, that neighborhood erupted in the infamous Watts Riots when 21-year-old Marquette Frye was pulled over for drunk driving and eventually beaten in the face with a baton. Violence erupted between officers and citizens. The California Army National Guard brought some 14,000 members to the streets in response. In the end, 34 people died and more than $40 million was racked up in property damages.
No shit Dre and his friends wrote a song called "Fuck tha Police."
Dre’s breakout band, the seminal gangsta rap six-piece N.W.A., formed in 1987; one year before the Anti-Drug Abuse Act was passed by the U.S. Congress. It established mandatory minimum sentencing for crack possession at a 100-to-1 ratio of sentences given to those who held or sold powder cocaine; just the latest in a series of legislation that was part of the effectively-doomed and ongoing "War on Drugs;" a movement so nefarious that President Nixon's domestic policy advisor John Ehrlichman would go on to say:
“We knew we couldn’t make it illegal to be either against the war or blacks, but by getting the public to associate the hippies with marijuana and blacks with heroin and then criminalizing them both heavily, we could disrupt those communities. We could arrest their leaders, raid their homes, break up their meetings, and vilify them night after night in the evening news. Did we know we were lying about the drugs? Of course we did.”
N.W.A.'s debut LP Straight Outta Compton reached No. 9 on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums chart, with lyrics that told this story, including the words “A young nigga got it bad 'cause I'm brown / And not the other color so police think / They have the authority to kill a minority.”
That message—one that objectively stands for justice and reason—was delivered over aggressive and powerful beats by the man now known as Dr. Dre, and it was welcomed by white America about as much as the Jacksons were when they first moved to Compton.
In 1985; Tipper Gore, Susan Baker and Pam Howar founded the Parents Music Resource Center, and they basically went on a political rampage damning any metal tune or gangsta rap song they deemed unfit for listening. They and other PTA members were all worked up about sex, drugs and violence in popular music. It’s the reason CDs and cassettes come with parental warnings to this day, and N.W.A. came under serious fire.
To be clear: the PMRC disbanded in the late ‘90s, and Dr. Dre just played the Super Bowl.
N.W.A. is a legendary group with a load of important releases and a really heartbreaking personal story that’s worth exploring. It was way bigger than just Dr. Dre, but when the band broke up in 1991, the doctor got back to work and co-founded Death Row Records, where he’d sign and produce for talent including Nate Dogg, Tupac and Snoop Dogg, the latter of which would be nearly convicted and locked up for murder in 1993.
My roommate Lily commented while watching Snoop dance on the Super Bowl stage how much a person can contribute to society if they aren’t, you know, put in jail for the rest of their life. Food for thought.
The problem with Death Row was Dre’s partner Suge Knight. Google him if you don’t know about the terror. Anyway, Dre left that place in 1996 and started a new label called Aftermath. That's where he signed and nurtured stars Eminem, 50 Cent, Kendrick Lamar and Anderson. Paak, among other. He released records from Busta Rhymes, Raekwon, Xzibit and The Game. He produced Mary J. Blige’s “Family Affair,” which is how she fits into the whole Super Bowl scheme.
Seeing that crew on stage last night was entertaining, sure, but it was touching, too. We watched a powerful patriarch, now 56 years old, gather with generations of his musical kin. They stood tall against merciless odds, weary but not beaten by decades of court hearings and calls of “has been,” to represent for the city that raised more than an attitude.
When the show starts and we find Dre at his make-believe production desk, he stands from his chair and starts a duet with his lifelong friend. When you consider the context, the scene is nearly impossible; two young black kids from the LA hood, smiling and laughing and rapping about how they’re still here.
I love that Snoop is just standing on the roof of a house. It’s a call back to those houses of Compton and Watts and Long Beach where their moms literally fought for the right to simply live. Where they listened to funk records and started chopping the beats to make songs that would sound good on car stereos.
Then 50 Cent pops into frame upside down, just like in the video; and Mary J. just smashes it and falls to the ground. Kendrick comes through, Compton’s—and hip-hops’—first-ever Pulitzer Prize winner, and then Eminem singing a song about taking your shot and making it count. Anderson. Paak is on drums, a man who is currently Grammy nominated, and he doesn’t even touch a mic. He’s just there to do his thing and remind us that Dre’s Midas touch continues to reign on radio.
There’s this one moment, at 11:05 on the YouTube video, where the camera shows Dre just bobbing his head and looking out at the LA crowd. It’s not a look that says “I’m the greatest,” or “about time,” or “I’m really showing them.” It’s just a look like “wow. Holy fuck. This is where I am.” It’s humbling, and it’s heart-warming, and it’s real.
Then he goes and plays the iconic chords of “Still D.R.E.” on the piano, and joins his old friend one more time to rap about how he’s grown a lot; how since he’s left not too much has changed; and, most importantly, how he’s still got love for the streets—in those very streets.
The Rams may have won the Super Bowl battle, but after 68 years, Compton and the black Americans of south central LA won the war.
Absolutely Necessary
(This is the part where I share songs that are so good, they’re absolutely necessary to listen to. That’s it. That’s the bar.)
I made two Spotify playlists for this section that you can follow: one weekly playlist updated with just the new stuff every week, and one cumulative playlist that will host every song I pick ever (until Spotify tells me it's full). Check them out! I made them for you—and me, but mostly you.
Usually, I’d leave a list here for you to enjoy, but I haven’t compiled that just now and I wanted to get this week’s essay about the Super Bowl out. Just know that the playlists are updating, and I’ll be back with a fresh crop of dope tunes and they’re backstories this weekend!
Here’s what’s coming up:
Wednesday, Feb. 16:
Cutie Club: Boy Bands
N*Sync! BTS! Blackstreet! We’re with the boys in the band, and we’re practicing our synchronized dance moves to bring you the most sensual, cheese-riddled Cutie Club yet!
7 pm ET / 4 pm PT
twitch.tv/katbein
Thursday, Feb. 17:
Kat Calls: QRTR
Been meaning to get this NYC DJ and producer on the show since last summer. Listen to her album infina ad nausea and then come through with your questions!
7 pm ET / 4 pm PT
twitch.tv/katbein
Thanks for tuning into my newsletter. Listen to the playlists on Spotify. One is updated weekly with all the songs from each edition. The other is cumulative with all the updates ever!