Brightest Young Things

All words: Joel Mittleman and Chris Seeger

Joel Mittleman:

Yesterday brought the sad news that the hip hop generation had lost one of its greatest voices, the Guru.  Born Keith Elam, Gifted Unlimited Rhymes Universal passed at the too young age of 43 after a lengthy but private battle with cancer.

Guru rose to prominence as one half of the epochal duo Gang Starr, providing the rhymes for DJ Premier's beats.  Before their unexplained but apparently ugly split, Gang Starr dropped six albums from 1989 to 2003, including 1998’s classic Moment of Truth.  Along with Tribe Called Quest, Gang Starr established the link between jazz and hip hop, a link Guru explored more explicitly through his Jazzmatazz series.

Reaction to Guru’s death from the hip hop community has been swift and sobering.  “In my 10 greatest voices in hip hop,” Questlove wrote this morning, “Guru was easily top 5.”  Q-Tip echoed the sentiment, offering “From Allah we come to Allah we return. R.I.P. Keith GURU.  A great man, poet, and I'm proud to say friend.”  Even Snoop paid his respects, in his own way: “420 gonna be in honor of the big homie Guru.. respect the foundation... light one up for the legend.”

Guru was a work horse emcee.  He was nobody’s favorite: he was no Biggie, Nas, or even Black Thought.  But that was okay.  He had a steady, methodical flow that didn’t win battles, but did demand respect.  Unlike most emcees, Guru exuded a principled humility.  He saved the braggadocio for his championing of hip hop’s power and cultural worth.  His belief in hip hop’s revolutionary potential led him to be not only one of the culture’s strongest proponents but also one of its sharpest critics.  From 1991’s “Just to Get a Rep” onward, he railed against the destructive ideas sold to and about Black youth, combining structural critique with individual uplift.

To the end, Guru seems to have maintained his selfless positivity.  In a final letter he allegedly penned to his “fans, friends and loved ones around the world,” he concluded “I write this with tears in my eyes, not of sorrow but of joy for what a wonderful life I have enjoyed and how many great people I have had the pleasure of meeting.”

I’d be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that yesterday also witnessed the passing of one of the heroes of the civil rights movement, Dorothy Height.  She passed at the Howard University Hospital, at age 98.  Though they were separated by a generation and used different tools, Height and Guru were soldiers in the same struggle.  May their memory be a blessing and their lives be an inspiration as we continue in the work they've left undone.

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Chris Seeger:

Guru was to rap what Ken and Ryu were to Street Fighter II. They were the “good guys”; tough and muscle-bound, but you knew their hearts were pure. These are the people we cheer for in life. Guru’s talents were a degree above his peers, and he always used his gifts to give us fans the “real hip hop”. He never sold out, never made club hits, and always reminded us why we fell in love with hip hop music.

By the time I got my hands on a Gang Starr album, they had been releasing records for ten years. I was in Kintergarden when they released their debut, No More Mr. Nice Guy. During my junior year of high school I bought turntables, and officially branded myself a “hip hop head”. I bought Gang Starr’s 2LP Full Clip: A Decade of Gang Starr and was mesmerized from the first note. I was familiar with some of the tracks, but that 2LP was stunning. I couldn’t believe the consistency of Guru’s rhymes over DJ Premier’s relentless jazz-hop productions.

The beats were simple, often laughably so, with DJ Premier just looping a one-bar jazz break. Once Premier established the groove, Guru would effortlessly spit poetry for bars and bars. He was an emcee’s emcee. He had the casual bravado of Rakim, the knowledge of KRS-One, and above all, the ability to rap narratives unlike any of his predecessors.

Guru’s career dominated the Golden Era of hip hop music. The “Golden Era” is loosely defined, but I’d estimate it occurred from 1988-2002. This was when the actual culture of hip hop swept the world and you no longer had to be from harlem to feel like a legitimite participant. Groups like Gang Starr, A Tribe Called Quest, and De La Soul were the unofficial Ministers of Culture. They showed us what a great hip hop record was meant to sound like, and each new release exhibited the raw talents these young men possessed. Thousands of rappers competed to be the “illest on the mic” and Guru could truly claim his place at the top of his class.

Listening to Gang Starr records reminds me of a time when hip hop was fun. It reminds me of clubs that wreak of black n milds, packed with men who nod their heads in unison and raise their hands when instructed. Guru’s voice conjurs images of breakdancing in my parent’s garage and learning how to DJ in my parent’s basement. It reminds me of those deeply personal trips to Tower Records, spending all of my earnings from my first job at a dry cleaner on hip hop cd’s and vinyl singles.

I must note that of all the quotable lines in hip hop, my favorite was spoken by Guru on the song “DWYCK”. He raps, “Lemonade was a popular drink and it still is, I get more props and stunts than Bruce Willis”.

During his time on earth, Guru touched the hearts of millions. His voice was a beacon of light in the often watered down world of rap music, and his legacy will be celebrated for generations to come.