With the consistent blurring of genres, the development of numerous musical subsets and the inevitable reforming of contemporary ideas overlaid upon traditional structures, creative differences, and self-expression are becoming harder and harder to define. What was once rock, jazz, soul and classical is now transformed into a complex categorizing process as valuable as the dewey decimal system. Further solidifying the boundaries constantly influx are the business market abilities to define an audience rather than the stylistic approach to art. It has happed in every scene, and the hip-hop world, though grounded in the authenticity of character, is no stranger to it. Conscious hip-hop, combining steady beats and heavy rhythms with political and social commentary, may not be a new phenomenon, but with artists such as The Roots and Talib Kweli gaining momentum to new live audiences outside the hip-hop realm, it’s another sub-genre creating it’s own unique players and identity – and MC/producer/indie-label owner Pete Miser is confidently adding his own honest views to the mix.
Receiving high praise from The Source, CMJ and Chuck D’s own rapstation.com, The 2002 release of Radio Free Brooklyn got the uninitiated talking, and those more familiar, nodding in reassurance. Like many contemporary artists, The Portland, Oregon native, and previous frontman for the Northwest’s prominent hip-hop band, 5 Fingers of Funk, Pete Miser (Pete Ho), decided that the best way to continue making records the way he wanted, was to create his own label, and shortly before moving to New York City, Ho-Made Records was born. By releasing Radio Free Brooklyn on his own, his ability to self-express was secured, and the parallel story of surviving the unthinkable in New York came to fruition.
It may be a vividly captured, hour-long journey through the boroughs, but Miser wasn’t set on creating the concept album it appears to be, even though the storyline evenly threads the nineteen tracks. “I think it ended up that way,” he explains, “because of the things that I was dealing with, in my life, were showing up in all the songs…like war, and all the craziness of living in New York right now. Just the connotation from Radio Free Brooklyn is based on Radio Free Europe, the allied news source during World War II. And the idea was, which is pretty clearly explained [in the title track], is there’s some sort of bomb that goes off in Manhattan, Manhattan is gone, I happen to be in the subway system when it happens…I come out, and I find an old radio, and the only thing on it is some guy, one of the survivors, and he’s broadcasting. But the title track actually came after the fact. I think that might have even been the last song I recorded for the album.”
With obvious comparisons to the events of September 11th, the song “Might Be” is a direct reaction to the tragedy from a personal perspective. And though he speaks his mind, Miser is cautious to jump the preachy line that hovers close at all times. “I’ve heard a handful of songs about 9/11, and most of them really, really bum me out” he says before adding, “they’re so, well, they’re just shortsighted in the same way that Americans can be shortsighted about that and other issues. I guess I just call it like I see it, you know what I mean?” And continues, “I see all the contradictions, and I can’t really comment on it without pointing them out.”
Miser, a well-respected producer for years, eventually caught the eye of the female singer, Dido, and was asked to tour with her band as DJ. You would assume going worldwide, performing on Letterman and Leno, and playing the large venues she brought him to would be the high points of the experience, but always thirsting for more mind food, Miser is quick to explain the true treasures of self-development that he found. “There’s a whole culture of, ‘backpackers,’ or ‘keep-it-realers,’ in hip-hop that feel like they jeopardize their credibility if they listen to anything other than the realist of real hip-hop and I used to be one of those guys a long time ago” he confesses. “And I kind of began to appreciate the value of pop music for the first time. And I just tried to open up to whatever, and not have a closed mind.”
Opening himself up to new sounds, and seeing the validity in any style of expression is a vital characteristic to the conscious hip-hop movement. With the recent introduction of The Roots and Jurassic 5 to jam audiences, the balance between creative integrity and playing what you need to stay alive has been tested. Where some acts are hesitant to go outside the comfort zone, those like Miser and the more well known acts he’s inspired by, who are able to perform live, confidently play for anyone, regardless of how they got there, in order to share the music and relevant message greatly needed in this time or turmoil. First meeting The Roots when Five Fingers of Funk opened up for them during their first tour, Miser admittedly spent “forty-five minutes just chewing Brother Question’s ear off about how to engineer drums,” before adding “yeah, them cats are definitely inspiring to me.”
When asked about the unspoken backlash sometimes used within the hip-hop community when artists like The Roots are perceived as catering to jam audiences and are categorized as a crossover act, Miser explains, “I know that [The Roots] put it on their album, the sentiment that, it’s upsetting to them, not that the jam world is coming to their shows, but more that the black community isn’t coming to their shows as much. And they took that quote from Mo’ Better Blues, where Wesley Snipes is saying to Denzel [Washington], you know like, ‘the people don’t come, because you don’t play the shit the people want to hear.’ And [The Roots] definitely represent the hip-hop intelligencia, and the hood doesn’t rally around that as much. But at the same time, them cats are really, really respected in the hood, and really loved in the hood and really appreciated. So I think as people doing what they love to do, their happy to see anybody at the show.” Further elaborating the issue, he offers the opinion that “I think it’s typically an American thing, to be caught up on that, like ‘is it ok, that this band of hip-hop heads have nothing but white folks in the audience. I don’t think people in Norway are thinking about that (laughs). It’s just like, is it dope music? Yeah. Are they sick musicians? Yeah. Are these people fans of sick musicianship and dope music? Yeah. So it’s all good.”
With the subset strengthening it’s newly constructed niche, and an audience latching onto yet again a reformed approach to old traditions, conscious hip-hop seems to have a solid foundation, with, especially in the hip-hop realm, the unique ability to sell tickets, not just sell records. Miser elaborates, “I think hip-hop is splitting off into sub-genres the way rock ‘n roll did [with acts like] Jurassic 5, Talib Kweli, Mos Def, and The Roots. When I look at the super-mainstream hip-hop, the big radio hip-hop, I mean, I don’t even think that has much to do with me, and that’s not to say it doesn’t have value, but I feel like that’s pop music, and hip-hop is it’s source…the way pop music with Matchbox 20, rock ’n roll is it’s source, but the arrangements are all pop and the point is pop and the digestibility is pop.” Continuing with cautious optimism, he adds “there’s always gonna be a place for conscious hip-hop, or at least there’s always a place for conscious thought…or maybe there won’t be the way things are going.”
And it appears that it will keep growing, paving it’s own way while remaining sincere to the values set before. If anything, Pete can always release his music on his own label, but like he adds in the anti-Cribs sentiment of “Got That,” he doesn’t plan on getting the bling-bling simply from educating minds. “You can use the jazz musician quote of, ‘how do you make a million dollars as a [jazz] record label owner?…start with two million” he laughs. “Most people who start record labels are like me, they don’t have much business acumen. I mean, I’m not doing it ‘cause I want to have a multi-media conglomerate” he chuckles before adding in a more serious tone, “I’m doing it ’cause I want to put out records, and it seemed like the path of least resistance.”
It may indeed be the path, but regardless of how it gets out there, his solid beats and serious subject matter will continue to be spun with intellectual wit and subtle, comedic self-disclosure. When I referred to him consistently rapping about being dumped by the girl who only leaves her toothbrush, or having an apartment in Brooklyn with no AC, I made the rather ignorant comparison to almost a Rodney Dangerfield approach to rap, with which he graciously responded, “yeah, I’m the Rodney Dangerfield of hip-hop! I like that!”
