Posted: Wed Apr 12, 2006 12:58 pm
The violent death of Detroit rapper Proof has hip-hop artists and fans asking if rap produces violence or if it's simply a reflection of the dangers black men face in urban America.
"Proof's death is an example of the violence claiming the lives of a lot of young black men all over America, not just rappers," said Mister Mann Frisby, 31, a Philadelphia-based author, who wrote a book about young black men in America. "For every rapper who gets shot and killed there are 300 nameless young black men who die the same way."
Proof, 32, whose real name was Deshaun Holton, was an integral member of Detroit's hip-hop community and superstar rapper Eminem's right-hand man. He was gunned down around 4:30 a.m. Tuesday at the CCC nightclub on Eight Mile on Detroit's east side. Police said Proof was shot after shooting a man at the club. The investigation continues.
Proof was the second member of superstar rapper Eminem's entourage to be shot in Detroit within four months. Obie Trice was shot in the head New Year's Eve while driving on the Lodge Freeway but has recovered. Nationally, hip-hop superstars Tupac Shakur, the Notorious B.I.G., and Run DMC's Jam Master Jay were shot to death in the last decade.
In an eerie coincidence, Proof was shot and killed in Eminem's 2005 music video for "Like Toy Soldiers," a song that warns against hip-hop wars escalating into real life violence. The video shows a bloodied Proof lying in a hospital bed while doctors try to revive him, and also depicts the rapper's funeral.
Proof also prophesied his death on "No T. Lose," a track from his 2005 solo album "Searching for Jerry Garcia," rapping, "Broken hearted, my soul's like an open target/ And I'm ready to leave Earth, you step to my death next year on my T-shirt."
Jake Hill interviewed Proof a month ago for a story in Detroit Rock City magazine that hits newsstands this week. He said Proof knew violence was a part of life, but he never worried about it.
"I think it's a Detroit thing, honestly," Proof said, addressing Trice's shooting in the interview.
'Microcosm of society'
MTV News correspondent Sway Calloway said some people might question how smart it was for Proof to be hanging out in a club at such a late hour. But he said the issue is deeper than a hip-hop lifestyle leading to violence.
"Hip-hop is a microcosm of society as a whole," said Calloway, in Los Angeles on Tuesday. "And especially in urban areas, we're constantly trying to prove our bravado by brute force and by physical force, but we never think to tap into our intelligence to deal with conflict and confrontation."
Proof was not a gangsta rapper, per se. He did rap about violence, but mostly in a cartoonish manner of one-upmanship that came to typify his group D12's output.
Proof was best known as a battle rapper and a freestyle rapper, and his hosting gigs at Detroit's famed Hip-Hop Shop in the mid-'90s helped lay the groundwork for what would eventually become the city's celebrated hip-hop scene, immortalized on screen in 2002's "8 Mile."
While hip-hop lyrics tend to deal with violence in graphic detail, its artists defend the content by saying they're rapping about what they see day-to-day.
Detroit rapper Hush said when he raps about violent themes his intention is to teach about violence, not glorify it.
"The audience is supposed to take that and learn from it," said the rapper, whose album "Bulletproof" was released last year. "But if some kid hears it, thinks it's cool and decides to do it himself, it's the total opposite of what it's supposed to do."
Proof worked to mend fences
Though D12 and Proof had their share of rivalries with various rap crews, Proof had worked recently to eliminate those beefs from his career.
Proof recently jumped onstage with L.A. rap crew Dialated Peoples in Arizona as a sign that their one-time feud was over, and he also recorded a track with Insane Clown Posse proteges Twiztid, signaling the end of the longstanding feud between Eminem's and ICP's camps.
Still, not all of his outstanding beefs were quashed.
Jerome Almon, executive producer of Detroit rap group Blakk Attakk, said he and his crew were not friendly with Proof and D12.
"We don't like each other, everybody knows that," said Almon, 29, of Detroit. "But not in the terms where we are haters. We recognize that they made it."
More than a victim of hip-hop's violent tendencies, Almon said, Proof is a casualty of the city.
"You have to avoid Detroit when you get famous. If you go to any other city, Atlanta, L.A., there's a rap 'industry,' they do cooperate. Here, it's cannibalism. It's like no other place in America. Although we have hip-hop summits here and the 'hip-hop mayor,' there is beef that's going on, and nobody has addressed it."
Violence hits Detroit rappers
Indeed, violence has marred Detroit's hip-hop community on a number of occasions. Blade Icewood, a budding Detroit rapper, was gunned down in April 2005 on west Seven Mile and Faust. In May 1999, Detroit rapper Bugz (real name Karnail Pitts), an early member of D12, was shot and killed right around the time Eminem's career started to take off.
"Detroit is filled with a lot of ignorant, jealous, envious people," said Detroit rapper Phat Kat, who had known Proof for more than a decade, speaking about Detroit's various rap circles and those loosely affiliated with the scene. "If they think you've got a smidgeon of success, they can come try to take it. Detroit is really a sad place all around. It's just disgusting."
Christopher Chouinard, 35, of Hamtramck says he went to a local rap release party on Saturday night, and the guests were brandishing weapons and waving them about.
"It's not shocking that violence occurs, it's shocking how the rappers, once established, continue to live the lifestyle instead of moving away from it, seeing the destruction it leaves," he said
Rap, murders unrelated
Still, MC Serch, former morning man at WJLB-FM (97.9) says Proof's murder didn't have anything to do with hip-hop.
"It wouldn't have mattered if he was a fireman, policeman, garbageman," he said. "The music he made didn't have anything to do with this. We live in a violent community, and gun violence happens every day. To say it was rap violence is just ridiculous."
MTV's Calloway said the shooting is a black eye for Detroit.
"That's a bad look," he said. "That kind of sets everybody back a few steps, especially for Detroit. There ain't a whole lot of other reasons why people would come to Detroit. When (something like this happens), it hurts that city, hurts that region."
"Proof's death is an example of the violence claiming the lives of a lot of young black men all over America, not just rappers," said Mister Mann Frisby, 31, a Philadelphia-based author, who wrote a book about young black men in America. "For every rapper who gets shot and killed there are 300 nameless young black men who die the same way."
Proof, 32, whose real name was Deshaun Holton, was an integral member of Detroit's hip-hop community and superstar rapper Eminem's right-hand man. He was gunned down around 4:30 a.m. Tuesday at the CCC nightclub on Eight Mile on Detroit's east side. Police said Proof was shot after shooting a man at the club. The investigation continues.
Proof was the second member of superstar rapper Eminem's entourage to be shot in Detroit within four months. Obie Trice was shot in the head New Year's Eve while driving on the Lodge Freeway but has recovered. Nationally, hip-hop superstars Tupac Shakur, the Notorious B.I.G., and Run DMC's Jam Master Jay were shot to death in the last decade.
In an eerie coincidence, Proof was shot and killed in Eminem's 2005 music video for "Like Toy Soldiers," a song that warns against hip-hop wars escalating into real life violence. The video shows a bloodied Proof lying in a hospital bed while doctors try to revive him, and also depicts the rapper's funeral.
Proof also prophesied his death on "No T. Lose," a track from his 2005 solo album "Searching for Jerry Garcia," rapping, "Broken hearted, my soul's like an open target/ And I'm ready to leave Earth, you step to my death next year on my T-shirt."
Jake Hill interviewed Proof a month ago for a story in Detroit Rock City magazine that hits newsstands this week. He said Proof knew violence was a part of life, but he never worried about it.
"I think it's a Detroit thing, honestly," Proof said, addressing Trice's shooting in the interview.
'Microcosm of society'
MTV News correspondent Sway Calloway said some people might question how smart it was for Proof to be hanging out in a club at such a late hour. But he said the issue is deeper than a hip-hop lifestyle leading to violence.
"Hip-hop is a microcosm of society as a whole," said Calloway, in Los Angeles on Tuesday. "And especially in urban areas, we're constantly trying to prove our bravado by brute force and by physical force, but we never think to tap into our intelligence to deal with conflict and confrontation."
Proof was not a gangsta rapper, per se. He did rap about violence, but mostly in a cartoonish manner of one-upmanship that came to typify his group D12's output.
Proof was best known as a battle rapper and a freestyle rapper, and his hosting gigs at Detroit's famed Hip-Hop Shop in the mid-'90s helped lay the groundwork for what would eventually become the city's celebrated hip-hop scene, immortalized on screen in 2002's "8 Mile."
While hip-hop lyrics tend to deal with violence in graphic detail, its artists defend the content by saying they're rapping about what they see day-to-day.
Detroit rapper Hush said when he raps about violent themes his intention is to teach about violence, not glorify it.
"The audience is supposed to take that and learn from it," said the rapper, whose album "Bulletproof" was released last year. "But if some kid hears it, thinks it's cool and decides to do it himself, it's the total opposite of what it's supposed to do."
Proof worked to mend fences
Though D12 and Proof had their share of rivalries with various rap crews, Proof had worked recently to eliminate those beefs from his career.
Proof recently jumped onstage with L.A. rap crew Dialated Peoples in Arizona as a sign that their one-time feud was over, and he also recorded a track with Insane Clown Posse proteges Twiztid, signaling the end of the longstanding feud between Eminem's and ICP's camps.
Still, not all of his outstanding beefs were quashed.
Jerome Almon, executive producer of Detroit rap group Blakk Attakk, said he and his crew were not friendly with Proof and D12.
"We don't like each other, everybody knows that," said Almon, 29, of Detroit. "But not in the terms where we are haters. We recognize that they made it."
More than a victim of hip-hop's violent tendencies, Almon said, Proof is a casualty of the city.
"You have to avoid Detroit when you get famous. If you go to any other city, Atlanta, L.A., there's a rap 'industry,' they do cooperate. Here, it's cannibalism. It's like no other place in America. Although we have hip-hop summits here and the 'hip-hop mayor,' there is beef that's going on, and nobody has addressed it."
Violence hits Detroit rappers
Indeed, violence has marred Detroit's hip-hop community on a number of occasions. Blade Icewood, a budding Detroit rapper, was gunned down in April 2005 on west Seven Mile and Faust. In May 1999, Detroit rapper Bugz (real name Karnail Pitts), an early member of D12, was shot and killed right around the time Eminem's career started to take off.
"Detroit is filled with a lot of ignorant, jealous, envious people," said Detroit rapper Phat Kat, who had known Proof for more than a decade, speaking about Detroit's various rap circles and those loosely affiliated with the scene. "If they think you've got a smidgeon of success, they can come try to take it. Detroit is really a sad place all around. It's just disgusting."
Christopher Chouinard, 35, of Hamtramck says he went to a local rap release party on Saturday night, and the guests were brandishing weapons and waving them about.
"It's not shocking that violence occurs, it's shocking how the rappers, once established, continue to live the lifestyle instead of moving away from it, seeing the destruction it leaves," he said
Rap, murders unrelated
Still, MC Serch, former morning man at WJLB-FM (97.9) says Proof's murder didn't have anything to do with hip-hop.
"It wouldn't have mattered if he was a fireman, policeman, garbageman," he said. "The music he made didn't have anything to do with this. We live in a violent community, and gun violence happens every day. To say it was rap violence is just ridiculous."
MTV's Calloway said the shooting is a black eye for Detroit.
"That's a bad look," he said. "That kind of sets everybody back a few steps, especially for Detroit. There ain't a whole lot of other reasons why people would come to Detroit. When (something like this happens), it hurts that city, hurts that region."
)))
M.O.P. - Here today , gone tommorow