One of the challenges of profiling dream hampton, the cultural critic who has made a lasting impact in journalism, filmmaking, and activism since 1991, lies in her discontentment with hip-hop, despite being widely associated with the genre. Another challenge is the abundance of stories about her, making it difficult to include all of them in a single article. For example, there’s the anecdote about her preventing the Notorious B.I.G. from attacking Questlove.
This anecdote reveals a prevailing dynamic in hip-hop and other art forms: the perceived divide between the alternative and the mainstream. In the 90s, the Roots, a Philadelphia band whose lyrics delved into political subjects like the Bosnian War, represented the conscious rap scene advocating for social change. On the other hand, Biggie, known for his Shakespearean storytelling in songs about partying and indulgence, was seen by many in the conscious camp as a profit-driven entertainer.
The Roots’ music video for “What They Do” released in 1996 humorously identified itself as a “Rap Video Manual.” It satirized mainstream hip-hop clichés, showing rappers sipping champagne (actually ginger ale) and bikini-clad girls twerking (who end up with “severe butt cramp”). Around the same time, acts like the Fugees and De La Soul, with their alternative leanings, also criticized hip-hop’s materialism and superficiality. However, Questlove, the Roots’ drummer, later revealed that he was unaware of the video’s concept during the shoot. It was only after watching the final version that he realized it was a specific parody of Biggie’s hit “One More Chance,” which depicted a Brooklyn party filled with champagne and attractive women.
Biggie didn’t find the parody amusing. He had previously supported the Roots’ music, and now, they seemed to be betraying him. Rebelling against Questlove, whom dream hampton knew from editing his writing for Rap Pages magazine, Biggie expressed his desire to assault him. Hampton, however, defended Questlove, assuring Biggie that he wasn’t the tough one in the group. She described him as a “nerd” and urged Biggie not to harm him.
When Biggie’s anger reached Questlove’s ears, he penned an editorial for The Source to clear the air. Unfortunately, it never got published because Biggie was tragically killed in a shooting in March 1997. Questlove admitted that this loss deeply affected him, and dream hampton was the only person he confided in about his sorrow.
The aftermath of the video’s release continued even after Biggie’s death. In February 1998, Questlove received an urgent message from hampton while attending a Grammys afterparty in New York City. She advised him to leave immediately because someone from Biggie’s former entourage was reportedly present and intended to ambush him. Following her advice, Questlove promptly left the event.
Questlove revealed that hampton often acted as a mediator between rap’s “haves” and “have-nots.” He recounted an incident where he bought Jay-Z’s album “The Blueprint” on its release date, September 11, 2001. Fearing for his life, he wanted to experience the album before potentially dying. However, listening to it felt like a betrayal to his underground roots since Jay-Z represented the capitalist side of rap. He compared the experience to sneaking a look at someone’s secret Playboy stash under their bed—a mixture of dishonor and exhilaration.
To add to his dilemma, he ended up loving “The Blueprint.” When Questlove admitted this to hampton, who was a close friend of Jay-Z’s, it felt like a coming-out moment to him. Her reaction was overwhelming, and they engaged in a heated argument. She wanted to inform Jay-Z about Questlove’s admiration, but he was concerned about losing his credibility as an indie artist. Regardless, hampton shared the news with Jay-Z anyway, and within months, the two artists were collaborating on an album.
These stories illustrate the enduring tensions within hip-hop. They shed light on Noname’s album “Sundial,” which criticizes capitalism, the military-industrial complex, and rappers who have allegedly sold out to these forces, such as Kendrick Lamar and Jay-Z. Noname even mentions feeling “motion sick” from the duplicity of certain rappers. However, the album also demonstrates how political engagement doesn’t always guarantee enlightenment, as it features an anti-Semitic verse by Jay Electronica, which Noname later disavowed.
In the 90s, dream hampton argued against considering certain types of rap inherently superior just because they seemed conscious. In our conversation, she expressed mixed feelings toward didactic art and highlighted that even intellectual acts like A Tribe Called Quest have released songs like “The Infamous Date Rape,” which cast doubt on sexual assault survivors. She emphasized that her goal was never to define rap as a protest medium; instead, she wanted rap to be good, regardless of its message.
Defining what is “good” in art is subjective, and critics like hampton strive to honestly examine the complex relationship between aesthetics and morality. While my profile mainly focuses on the ideological aspects of hampton’s career, it also highlights her search for truth and beauty. Arriving in New York City to study film, she has continuously oscillated between activism and art. Criticism, particularly the kind that unearths the social ideas embedded in entertainment, lies at the intersection of these two realms.
According to her friend, sculptor Maikoiyo Alley-Barnes, hampton deeply values craftsmanship and attention to detail in a time when mediocrity often goes unquestioned. Her filmmaking, such as the recent short film “Freshwater,” draws inspiration from directors like Terrence Malick, who prioritize style over ideology. She admires Malick’s ability to spend several minutes focusing on a simple blade of grass in his films, regardless of the story he’s telling. For hampton, art is a gateway to truth and beauty.
hampton’s influence on hip-hop extends beyond ideology to aesthetics. Questlove credits her for connecting him with producer J Dilla, leading to acclaimed collaborations with artists like D’Angelo and Common. She also introduced him to the music of Cody Chesnutt, who ended up featuring on the Roots’ hit song “The Seed (2.0)” in 2002. Through their friendship, hampton made Questlove more conscious, not only in terms of what he communicates but also how he communicates. He praised her ability to effortlessly plant seeds of new ideas, inspiring him to consider how he could use his art to change minds.
Questlove went on to rank hampton among his top-five writers of all time, clarifying that he wasn’t just referring to Black women writers, hip-hop writers, or music writers. She was the first person of her caliber he encountered, capable of expressing ideas in ways no one else he knew could achieve. When informed of this praise, hampton replied with a hint of sarcasm, calling it “hip hop and its hyperbole,” accompanied by an eye-rolling emoji.
Denial of responsibility! Vigour Times is an automatic aggregator of Global media. In each content, the hyperlink to the primary source is specified. All trademarks belong to their rightful owners, and all materials to their authors. For any complaint, please reach us at – [email protected]. We will take necessary action within 24 hours.
