It Was Written – The Lost Art Of Freestyling

Eighties babies know what it was like growing up during Hip Hop’s Golden Era.  Dudes couldn’t simply get by with posting up behind a female while enjoying the grind of her juicy bubble.  Rhythm was essential.  Not being able to do the whop, cabbage patch, running man, or the occasional bogo and/or butterfly (when the DJ threw on the proper dubplate), relegated you to lame wallflower status.  Similarly, emcees couldn’t get away with just being rappers.  Anybody could rap, or make words rhyme successively.  An emcee on the other hand, could also create coherent, impromptu raps on the spot.  This was the gift that used to separate emcees from rappers.  Unfortunately, in recent history, Hip Hop has forgotten the importance of freestyling, and even struggles to properly define this lost art form.

Figuring out when the freestyle transitioned from spur of the moment wizardry to carefully crafted construction is difficult.  As recent as the mid 90s freestyling retained its traditional definition.  During lunchtime in the cafeteria, most Hip Hop junkies filled one of three roles.  Depending on how confident you were, you may have been a lunchtime emcee. Or, having perfected your craft as a beat boxer and/or table pounder, you may have been the lunchtime DJ/super-producer.  If you didn’t fit one of these two roles, you became a member of Hip Hop’s most important constituency: the critical observers.  Following the tacit rules of Hip Hop, emcees and DJs strove to please these critical observers.  For aspiring emcees, these unwritten laws were commandments; disobeying them were grounds for public chastisement, humiliation, and in some cases a good ole fashioned beatdown.

In the midst of a battle, the punishment used to always fit the crime.  Failure to make your words actually rhyme was met with a sea of ice grills.  Saying some corny ish got you clowned… relentlessly.  Reciting a rhyme previously delivered by another emcee earned you the unscrupulous label of “biter.”  However, historically speaking, nothing topped the greatest emcee offense of all: spitting a written verse during a freestyle.

Growing up in NYC, spitting a rhyme that sounded remotely close to something rehearsed was grounds for a fight.  Memories of public school battles flood my memory.  After pulling the best punchline of my life out of thin air, I can remember the cafeteria’s critical observers unanimously concluding that I had “spit a written.”  Angry that I would have the nerve to “spit a written,” the critical observers prodded me to defend my manhood.  Equally annoyed at the accusations of committing premeditated lyrical homicide, somebody’s free lunch became a projectile defense armament.  The tension that rose from defending my flawless freestyle led to a boogie down brawl.

Where is this spirit today? These days you’re very likely to hear your favorite rapper visit the local radio station to “freestyle” for the on air personality.  You’re just as likely to pick up that rapper’s album and hear that same “freestyled” verse somewhere on a song!  It’s blasphemous for rappers to front like they’re freestyling when they’re merely spitting written verses they’ve undoubtedly rehearsed for hours during their studio sessions.

Admittedly, some of my favorite artists are guilty of committing this lyrical sin. A few weeks ago I caught the clip of Kanye West and Pusha T “freestyling” on the Funkmaster Flex show.  It made the rounds on NahRight, RapRadar, HipHopDX, and all the major Hip Hop outlets.  I emailed the link to my boys and talked about how dope it was that people still value this forgotten art form.  Then I copped My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy from Amazon…  Track 1: banger.  Track 2: same verses Kanye spit on Funkmaster Flex two weeks earlier!  Words cannot express my disappointment as the deception I had witnessed became apparent; I was once again the victim of freestyle fraud.  Since hanging up my emcee aspirations to assume the role of critical observer, I was now madder than those public school kids that falsely accused me of “spitting writtens” in ’96.

Sadly, Hip Hop has left me with this feeling quite often in the past decade.  Freestyling used to mean coming off the top with spontaneous quips, unscripted punchlines, and improvised humor.  Now freestlying seems to mean “I’m gonna spit some written shit that you more than likely haven’t heard yet.”  Perhaps my upbringing in Hip Hop’s Mecca has forced me to be more critical than the average fan.  However, everyone should be troubled by the fact that freestyling went from liberating one’s lyrical dexterity to unleashing preconceived babble.  Quite frankly, Hip Hop’s critical observers are no longer critical enough.  With the pervasiveness of the internet, there is no way any reputable artist should be able to get away with faking the funk.  When rappers, claiming to be emcees, get caught “spitting writtens” we gotta start throwing flags on the play.  DJs, radio personalities, and fans are responsible for assessing penalties.  If we bring back the mean mugs, communal reprimands, and worst case scenario ass whoopings, the lost art of freestyling may have a future.