Straight outta Tatton: it’s easy to see why George Osborne is a fan of gangsta rap

http://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2015/oct/05/george-osborne-gangsta-rap-nwa-public-enemy

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To almost universal shock we learned over the weekend that the chancellor of the exchequer is a fan of NWA (Niggaz With Attitude), a band once dubbed the world’s most dangerous and warned by the FBI to tone down their music. A young Osborne even attended an NWA show at Brixton Academy in the early 90s – when Brixton was Brixton and gangsta rap was gangsta rap. We also learned over the summer that Liz Kendall, who is about as far to the political right of the Labour party as it’s possible to go, favours a little bit of Public Enemy in her downtime.

Related: David Cameron is Straight Outta Eton. He could learn a lot from this NWA movie | Matthew d’Ancona

Crude stereotyping would suggest that right-leaning politicians such as Osborne and Kendall would be more drawn to the socially conservative, melodic music of DJ Jazzy Jeff & the Fresh Prince on a good day and, perhaps, De La Soul when the going gets tough. Finding out that they prefer uncompromising beats and gritty lyrics is pleasantly surprising.

Groups such as NWA, Public Enemy, and the Geto Boys faced absolute hostility from the George Osbornes of their day. The political, law enforcement and cultural establishment did as much as they possibly could to curtail these groups. And why wouldn’t they try to derail messages such as Fuck tha Police, Fight the Power and Fuck a War? This was, after all, the late 80s and early 90s, a period of strident conservative rule on both sides of the pond. In fact, even 16 years after NWA’s heyday David Cameron, on his rise to power, chastised Radio 1 for playing the genre. “Do you realise some of the stuff you play on Saturday nights encourages people to carry guns and knives?” he said.

So why are politicians, especially the heirs to the conservative rule of the 80s/90s, drawn to the more fearless, defiant, determined, visionary and confrontational brands of hip-hop – such as Public Enemy and NWA?

The first reason may be because of just that: these groups are fearless and defiant visionaries. They are by nature confrontational and determined. These are all qualities that are central to transformative and authentic leadership. NWA, Public Enemy et al were successful because they dived in head first where most people would have been scared to dip their little toes. They spoke to reality; they spoke truth to power even when it meant that they were risking it all. Whatever your personal views of them, neither Kendall nor Osborne can reasonably be criticised for a lack of vision or for being fearful or compliant.

There is a scene in the recent NWA biopic, Straight Outta Compton in which Dr Dre’s mother brutally chastises a young Dre for not owning the small business he works in as a DJ. “If you’re going to work there make sure you own it,” she says. Her message could have come straight from the lips of George Osborne or Nigel Lawson. This mentality seeps right the way through hip-hop as an art form and as a business. Unlike in the Motown era in which all black soul and R&B artists of note were eager to be signed to Berry Gordy’s great ensemble – in hip-hop there is no dignity in being anything less than your own boss in the long term. Being your own boss and making your own cash are certainly messages that would have been well received by young capitalist ears.

The conservative principles of smaller government, minimal state interference with business, aggressive entrepreneurialism and being the king of your own castle are central to hip-hop.

They are central to the entire story of NWA and a consistent theme in their music and the music of their artistic offspring. On Dr Dre’s recent album, for example, he speaks to this when he raps: “I’m rich as fuck, but, guess what, I’m back to work”. His musical protege, Kendrick Lamar, gives a more direct nod to the principles of conservatism: “I gotta keep it pushing / I can’t let the government tell me how my future is looking.”

Another reason George Osborne may have fallen for the allure of gangsta rap is the undeniable appeal of the music to young ears. In 1990 George Osborne was 19. Gangsta rap was the music of savvy and cool 19-year-olds of the time, and to a certain extent remains so to this day.

Gangsta rap and hip-hop are very clearly black music forms but their main consumers look more like George Osborne than they do the performers on stage. From Frankie Lymon & the Teenagers in the 1950s to NWA in the late 80s and early 90s right down to Drake and Nicki Minaj today, the sound, allure and creativity of desperately poor, young, inner-city people has always been a magnet for people such as the 19-year-old George Osborne – the young, well-educated and wealthy. Being intrigued by, or attracted to, things that we are not is part of the human condition and part of the beauty of life. And the music of NWA and Public Enemy went beyond music. It was political. Highly political. The stories told in gangsta rap may not have echoed Osborne’s teenage life, but at least he was listening.