Tuesday, April 24, 2012

"The Secret Meeting that Changed Rap Music and Destroyed a Generation"

This anonymous letter landed in my inbox about a minute ago:

After more than 20 years, I've finally decided to tell the world what I witnessed in 1991,
which I believe was one of the biggest turning point in popular music, and ultimately
American society. I have struggled for a long time weighing the pros and cons of making this
story public as I was reluctant to implicate the individuals who were present that day. So I've
simply decided to leave out names and all the details that may risk my personal well being
and that of those who were, like me, dragged into something they weren't ready for.

Between the late 80's and early 90’s, I was what you may call a “decision maker” with one of
the more established company in the music industry. I came from Europe in the early 80’s and
quickly established myself in the business. The industry was different back then. Since
technology and media weren’t accessible to people like they are today, the industry had more
control over the public and had the means to influence them anyway it wanted. This may
explain why in early 1991, I was invited to attend a closed door meeting with a small group of
music business insiders to discuss rap music’s new direction. Little did I know that we would
be asked to participate in one of the most unethical and destructive business practice I’ve ever
seen.

The meeting was held at a private residence on the outskirts of Los Angeles. I remember
about 25 to 30 people being there, most of them familiar faces. Speaking to those I knew, we
joked about the theme of the meeting as many of us did not care for rap music and failed to
see the purpose of being invited to a private gathering to discuss its future. Among the
attendees was a small group of unfamiliar faces who stayed to themselves and made no
attempt to socialize beyond their circle. Based on their behavior and formal appearances, they
didn't seem to be in our industry. Our casual chatter was interrupted when we were asked to
sign a confidentiality agreement preventing us from publicly discussing the information
presented during the meeting. Needless to say, this intrigued and in some cases disturbed
many of us. The agreement was only a page long but very clear on the matter and
consequences which stated that violating the terms would result in job termination. We asked
several people what this meeting was about and the reason for such secrecy but couldn't find
anyone who had answers for us. A few people refused to sign and walked out. No one stopped
them. I was tempted to follow but curiosity got the best of me. A man who was part of the
“unfamiliar” group collected the agreements from us.

Quickly after the meeting began, one of my industry colleagues (who shall remain nameless
like everyone else) thanked us for attending. He then gave the floor to a man who only
introduced himself by first name and gave no further details about his personal background. I
think he was the owner of the residence but it was never confirmed. He briefly praised all of
us for the success we had achieved in our industry and congratulated us for being selected as
part of this small group of “decision makers”. At this point I begin to feel slightly
uncomfortable at the strangeness of this gathering. The subject quickly changed as the speaker
went on to tell us that the respective companies we represented had invested in a very
profitable industry which could become even more rewarding with our active involvement.
He explained that the companies we work for had invested millions into the building of
privately owned prisons and that our positions of influence in the music industry would
actually impact the profitability of these investments. I remember many of us in the group
immediately looking at each other in confusion. At the time, I didn’t know what a private
prison was but I wasn't the only one. Sure enough, someone asked what these prisons were
and what any of this had to do with us. We were told that these prisons were built by privately
owned companies who received funding from the government based on the number of
inmates. The more inmates, the more money the government would pay these prisons. It was
also made clear to us that since these prisons are privately owned, as they become publicly
traded, we’d be able to buy shares. Most of us were taken back by this. Again, a couple of
people asked what this had to do with us. At this point, my industry colleague who had first
opened the meeting took the floor again and answered our questions. He told us that since our
employers had become silent investors in this prison business, it was now in their interest to
make sure that these prisons remained filled. Our job would be to help make this happen by
marketing music which promotes criminal behavior, rap being the music of choice. He
assured us that this would be a great situation for us because rap music was becoming an
increasingly profitable market for our companies, and as employee, we’d also be able to buy
personal stocks in these prisons. Immediately, silence came over the room. You could have
heard a pin drop. I remember looking around to make sure I wasn't dreaming and saw half of
the people with dropped jaws. My daze was interrupted when someone shouted, “Is this a
f****** joke?” At this point things became chaotic. Two of the men who were part of the
“unfamiliar” group grabbed the man who shouted out and attempted to remove him from the
house. A few of us, myself included, tried to intervene. One of them pulled out a gun and we
all backed off. They separated us from the crowd and all four of us were escorted outside. My
industry colleague who had opened the meeting earlier hurried out to meet us and reminded us
that we had signed agreement and would suffer the consequences of speaking about this
publicly or even with those who attended the meeting. I asked him why he was involved with
something this corrupt and he replied that it was bigger than the music business and nothing
we’d want to challenge without risking consequences. We all protested and as he walked back
into the house I remember word for word the last thing he said, “It’s out of my hands now.
Remember you signed an agreement.” He then closed the door behind him. The men rushed
us to our cars and actually watched until we drove off.

A million things were going through my mind as I drove away and I eventually decided to
pull over and park on a side street in order to collect my thoughts. I replayed everything in my
mind repeatedly and it all seemed very surreal to me. I was angry with myself for not having
taken a more active role in questioning what had been presented to us. I'd like to believe the
shock of it all is what suspended my better nature. After what seemed like an eternity, I was
able to calm myself enough to make it home. I didn't talk or call anyone that night. The next
day back at the office, I was visibly out of it but blamed it on being under the weather. No one
else in my department had been invited to the meeting and I felt a sense of guilt for not being
able to share what I had witnessed. I thought about contacting the 3 others who wear kicked
out of the house but I didn't remember their names and thought that tracking them down
would probably bring unwanted attention. I considered speaking out publicly at the risk of
losing my job but I realized I’d probably be jeopardizing more than my job and I wasn't
willing to risk anything happening to my family. I thought about those men with guns and
wondered who they were? I had been told that this was bigger than the music business and all
I could do was let my imagination run free. There were no answers and no one to talk to. I
tried to do a little bit of research on private prisons but didn’t uncover anything about the
music business’ involvement. However, the information I did find confirmed how dangerous
this prison business really was. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. Eventually, it
was as if the meeting had never taken place. It all seemed surreal. I became more reclusive
and stopped going to any industry events unless professionally obligated to do so. On two
occasions, I found myself attending the same function as my former colleague. Both times,
our eyes met but nothing more was exchanged.

As the months passed, rap music had definitely changed direction. I was never a fan of it but
even I could tell the difference. Rap acts that talked about politics or harmless fun were
quickly fading away as gangster rap started dominating the airwaves. Only a few months had
passed since the meeting but I suspect that the ideas presented that day had been successfully
implemented. It was as if the order has been given to all major label executives. The music
was climbing the charts and most companies when more than happy to capitalize on it. Each
one was churning out their very own gangster rap acts on an assembly line. Everyone bought
into it, consumers included. Violence and drug use became a central theme in most rap music.
I spoke to a few of my peers in the industry to get their opinions on the new trend but was told
repeatedly that it was all about supply and demand. Sadly many of them even expressed that
the music reinforced their prejudice of minorities.

I officially quit the music business in 1993 but my heart had already left months before. I
broke ties with the majority of my peers and removed myself from this thing I had once loved.
I took some time off, returned to Europe for a few years, settled out of state, and lived a
“quiet” life away from the world of entertainment. As the years passed, I managed to keep my
secret, fearful of sharing it with the wrong person but also a little ashamed of not having had
the balls to blow the whistle. But as rap got worse, my guilt grew. Fortunately, in the late
90’s, having the internet as a resource which wasn't at my disposal in the early days made it
easier for me to investigate what is now labeled the prison industrial complex. Now that I
have a greater understanding of how private prisons operate, things make much more sense
than they ever have. I see how the criminalization of rap music played a big part in promoting
racial stereotypes and misguided so many impressionable young minds into adopting these
glorified criminal behaviors which often lead to incarceration. Twenty years of guilt is a
heavy load to carry but the least I can do now is to share my story, hoping that fans of rap
music realize how they’ve been used for the past 2 decades. Although I plan on remaining
anonymous for obvious reasons, my goal now is to get this information out to as many people
as possible. Please help me spread the word. Hopefully, others who attended the meeting back
in 1991 will be inspired by this and tell their own stories. Most importantly, if only one life
has been touched by my story, I pray it makes the weight of my guilt a little more tolerable.

Thank you.