Some good music to download:

KRS-One "Sound of the Police"
Dead Prez "Police State"
Phil Ochs "Cops of the World"

always have the most intelligent insights.

Why post this to IMC? Is this news?

BTW, I like KRS 1 but he's become a bit tainted since doing that commercial for Nike. "The revolution will be televised, the revolution is basketball" What the fuck was up with that????

As far as Ded Prez, they're too into the Uhuru* political cult, I mean politcal party.

*All African Peoples Socialist Party

wow, that was a great concert!!! and that shrit of bombs with the rolling stones....priceless.....

maybe it's not "news" by Journalism 101 standards, or perhaps more important, by corporate media standards, but it's a sharing of independent media, and IMC offers the opportunity to create a much broader, more informative, inclusive, and richer experience of how we understand events and information in the world.

the fact that we are participating here with commentary--is that "news?" by corporate standards, shouldn't we all just sit back and let some talking head tell us what to think with no participation or questioning on our part? if we can redefine the media/news experience with commentary like this, why can't we acknowledge the contributions to the truth process that come from music and other arts and enfold that process into this new thing we are creating here?

keep the music and poetry and literature and art flowing--it's all part of the same dig for truth, and sometimes what is said in a poem or a song is more true then the most thoroughly researched news story you could write.

this is the chance to think outside the corporate tv box. let's take advantage of it.

Silence! The Music Expert Will Lecture Now!

Fuck the police comin straight from the underground

A young nigga got it bad cause I'm brown

And not the other color so police think

they have the authority to kill a minority

Fuck that shit, cause I ain't the one

for a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun

to be beatin on, and thrown in jail

We can go toe to toe in the middle of a cell

Fuckin with me cause I'm a teenager

with a little bit of gold and a pager

Searchin my car, lookin for the product

Thinkin every nigga is sellin narcotics

You'd rather see, me in the pen

than me and Lorenzo rollin in a Benz-o

Beat a police out of shape

and when I'm finished, bring the yellow tape

To tape off the scene of the slaughter

Still gettin swoll off bread and water

I don't know if they fags or what

Search a nigga down, and grabbin his nuts

And on the other hand, without a gun they can't get none

But don't let it be a black and a white one

Cause they'll slam ya down to the street top

Black police showin out for the white cop

Ice Cube will swarm

on ANY motherfucker in a blue uniform

Just cause I'm from, the CPT

Ounk police are afraid of me!

HUH, a young nigga on the warpath

And when I'm finished, it's gonna be a bloodbath

of cops, dyin in L.A.

Yo Dre, I got somethin to say

In novels, semi-autobiographical narrative is used to explain progress of struggle, and the human interactions involved.

Rap music is a vehicle for expressing anger and defining struggle. The lyricists frequently describe themselves within an oppressed context, and speak to others so bound.

Today, there is not a more powerful, direct text of popular African-American liberation than rap music. Often, the graphic nature of the lyrics and stories incite cries of sensationalism. That rap artists portray a bleak world, or even an offensive one, should come as no surprise to anyone who has been to Compton, or America's other blighted urban districts. The feeling the music imparts is an telling reflection of the neighborhood - vulgar, dirty, "obscene," with a sort of underlying funk to it all - in both the positive and negative senses of the word.

Click the link for more....

Enjoy this article about El Vez.

I recently saw Bob Dylan play a concert and it was stunning. One of the many highlights was a piercing rendition of Masters of War, Dylan's polemical lyric aimed directly at the US military industrial complex (Dylan has acknowledged in recent interviews that the US MIC provided inspiration for the song). The lyrics are below. Dylan also played the song, in a version with heavy electric guitar distortion, during the 1991 Grammy awards ceremony during the Gulf War.



MASTERS OF WAR

(Words and Music by Bob Dylan - 1963)

Come you masters of war

You that build all the guns

You that build the death planes

You that build the big bombs

You that hide behind walls

You that hide behind desks

I just want you to know

I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin'

But build to destroy

You play with my world

Like it's your little toy

You put a gun in my hand

And you hide from my eyes

And you turn and run farther

When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old

You lie and deceive

A world war can be won

You want me to believe

But I see through your eyes

And I see through your brain

Like I see through the water

That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you set back and watch

When the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

As young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud

You've thrown the worst fear

That can ever be hurled

Fear to bring children

Into the world

For threatening my baby

Unborn and unnamed

You ain't worth the blood

That runs in your veins

How much do I know

To talk out of turn

You might say that I'm young

You might say I'm unlearned

But there's one thing I know

Though I'm younger than you

Even Jesus would never

Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question

Is your money that good

Will it buy you forgiveness

Do you think that it could

I think you will find

When your death takes its toll

All the money you made

Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die

And your death'll come soon

I will follow your casket

In the pale afternoon

And I'll watch while you're lowered

Down to your deathbed

And I'll stand o'er your grave

'Til I'm sure that you're dead